It's official.
I have entered a grey area in my life.
And it's in black and white.
Of late, I'd been studying my grey strands to no end, documenting this unavoidable stage of my life.
The sides of my hair first started greying in my mid-thirties, just as the family genes meant it to be.
My mum says her crowning glory went downhill at that age too, and going by historical data, I will have a head full of white hair by age 55.
While I am aware of my family genes, I honestly hadn't realised how quickly my hair had changed colour over the years.
It was as if Age crept up to my bedside in the middle of one night and playfully poked a hole in my hair, letting its black lusture leak out slowly.
Stanley my sex bunny friend, of course, had something to say about this analogy.
"If anyone wants to creep up to your bedside in the middle of the night and playfully poke at you that results in something to leak out, I don't see why you should be so upset about it," he typed in our WhatsApp group chat.
Carl the dense one, who is also in that group chat, was trying to get to the root of the conversation.
Carl is that one friend we all have: The one who would innocently offer bak kut teh to Razak at the school canteen, the one who would march to the wrong rhythm in a moving platoon, the one who would heartily congratulate a fat colleague for being pregnant.
"So, who came to your room that night, Adam?" was where Carl managed to conclude.
If I so much as to skip the hair-dyeing at the salon, my hair would look like it's printed from a copier that is urgently running out of black ink.
And because I'm really bad at all things D-I-Y, I had never bothered to dye my hair on my own (save for the one time that I bought a bright blonde dye and asked my sister to help me with it when we were in our late teens).
Recently, I stopped dyeing at the salon because of COVID.
That was when my true colours were revealed.
"Adam, you look like you're 50," Carl said clearly and plainly, when he saw photos of my greying hair.
"You can start telling people you are 65, so that they can praise you for looking young," added Stanley who is always an expert when it comes to doing things backwards.
Carl posted a gif of a pouting baby to convey empathy.
Incapable of reading the mood in the group chat, Carl said "you know, the other day, I was buying food from the hawker stall when the Uncle called me Xiao Di".
Not missing a beat, Stanley who has always been jealous of Carl's youthful genes, replied: "And how old was the Uncle? 400?"
I've obviously aged through the years thanks to those cruel 10-year-challenge photos I'm forced to do on social media but I've come to accept this natural progress.
Plus, I'm already happily attached to my lovely partner J who tells me he didn't fall in love with me because of my gorgeous looks.
"Wow, that's so sweet," Carl said genuinely, obviously failing to read the situation accurately again.
"Ouch, sister," Stanley said, managing to read between the lines (Stanley is an expert at all things in between).
In the beginning, I was really uncomfortable with my current look.
I don't want to look my age.
But slowly, I began to have two minds about looking like a 400-year-old Uncle.
Some gay friends who had seen my recent photos on social media privately tell me I look good as a silver fox.
"The look suits you' I relayed that message to the group. To which, Stanley promptly responded clearly and plainly: "Yes, because you ARE old".
I've also started weighing the pros and cons of just proudly wearing my new daddy look.
While I am thankful I still have a head full of hair and that my body is in the correct shape, I have honestly aged over the years.
So if I were to continue lying and dyeing, I may come across as trying too hard.
Besides, if I were to fully embrace my greying look, I can always tell the world that I am ageing with grace, I told the group.
I was almost sure Carl would be wondering who Grace was when he said: "Adam, you're ageing with Greys!"
Stanley immediately posted a gif of a black woman clapping merrily.
Not wanting to be outdone, Stanley said "And that can be a very sexy thing. They don't call it 50 shades of Grey for nothing".
No comments:
Post a Comment