It's not Connie Britton's hair

Almost a year ago, I stopped coloring my hair. It was partly an "I-don't-give-a-shit" decision, and partly an "I'm-lucky-I-get-to-be-here-and-go-grey" decision.

I was angry. Bitter. We had just said good bye to Susan, and I was about to turn 39 years old. On that day, my 39th birthday, I decided to never complain about anything having to do with aging.

And I stopped coloring my hair.

I also wore nothing but pajamas for several months, but that's not really relevant to this story.

Here's the thing. I stopped coloring my hair as a kind of "fuck you" to the youth loving universe. I wanted to see my grey hair. I wanted to look at it and be reminded that some people would give anything to be here long enough to go grey.

Funny thing about the universe. The universe said to me, "Fuck you back. You're not really going grey."

Meh. I have a few sparkly grey hairs here and there. For the most part though, my hair, my real hair color is the color of the Carter family. My grandmother, who died at the ever so young age of 97, had maybe a dozen grey hairs at the time of her death. The rest of her hair was a light chestnut brown color with a hint of auburn highlights. She never colored it.

My great aunt and her daughters - same beautiful hair. The Carter hair.

Last week, I turned my back towards the mirror in my bathroom and held a hand mirror up to see the back of my hair. I was checking to see how close I was to achieving some Connie Britton style (not close enough ever).

It surprised me. The highlights and the auburn in my hair. The natural color that I had covered for so many many years. I didn't even know what my natural color was until now.

I stood there, staring at my hair, realizing that my hair is nothing but a completely cliche metaphor for life. A ridiculous motivational poster for being yourself.

Stop trying to be something you aren't. You might actually like what you really are.

It will never be Connie Britton, but I'm liking my hair. All curly and confused. Brown and auburn.

Bring it on, 40. Me and my Carter hair can totally take you.