An existential question is often posed to what the French refer to diplomatically as “women of a certain age.” Oh those French. (See previous post for another example of French delicacy of speech.) And the question is “Why did you stop coloring your hair?” This is a topic brought up with some regularity among members of my demographic cohort.

“I’m tired of spending so much money on something that’s just a foolish and unnecessary vanity,” I’ve heard. “I have better things to do than sit in a chair while someone rubs some probably toxic junk into my scalp,” is another. Both are compelling reasons.

But they also ask”why do you opt KEEP coloring your hair?” That question is sometimes posed to me.

I might say something like “I like looking younger.” True enough but these pesky friends insist on drilling down into the very heart of the matter. “And the reason that’s so important?” they persist.

I was at the salon a few days ago and after I was fully cut, colored and blown dry Victoria, my hairdresser, remarked on how nice a silver color my hair was growing in and perhaps I might consider just letting my locks do their natural own thing in the not too distant future. Coincidentally, the day after said styling, I flew to Atlanta to visit a lifelong friend who has succumbed to nature’s plan and who now sports the shiniest, sleekest silver bob. There’s no other word for it – she looks fabulous. Wait, there are other words. Let’s also dub her sophisticated, chic and how about oo-la-la! I’m thinking “if my hair came in looking even remotely like Judy’s, I might stop covering up my gray strands in an instant.

The operative word is “might.” Why not just commit right now? And I’ll respond, feeling like a social throwback, “because of dating.” Eeek, just spotting those words on the page makes me wonder if I’ve turned into some Betty Draper avatar. The sad truth isn’t even that men my age want to date women their own age. No no no no no. They want to date younger women. Maybe even much younger. Silver hair, however sleek and sassy it might be, signals that I am, yes, a “woman of a certain age.” And of zero interest as a partner to, let’s just say, a whole bunch of men my age.

Hold on, you say. Back up. You want to DATE? You’re a 73 year old woman with a chronic illness (Parkinson’s if you’re new to the blog). Just be glad you’ve had no disease progression since you were diagnosed three years ago, and you lead a very active life. Who needs a man anyway?

Well, gulp, sometimes I feel I do. I suspect that that the desire for an intimate (and I don’t mean just sexual) connection, never leaves us. It’s part of what makes us human. Anyway, I feel it and will continue to act on that feeling, even if some might find me slightly ridiculous.

Back to the hair issue. By continuing to color, am I capitulating to the patriarchy and who wants to date a 73–year-old women with a chronic illness anyway?

Well, it’s not out of the question that such a person exists. I’m can be quite patient.

MARK YOUR CALENDAR! COMING SEPTEMBER 10 – PARKY CONVERSATIONS– my podcast where I’ll be talking about all the weird, little-known stuff about Parkinson’s. Hallucinations, creative surges, boxing and climbing walls are just a few of the “hidden Parkinson’s” you’ll hear about. For a taste, listen up! Here’s the trailer for Parky Conversations!

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