The Grey Lady ✚ Tuesdays with Tish

i found my first grey hair. and then i found some more. did it send me into an existential crisis and fear that i’m growing old and wasting my life? no. i was just surprised because i am my mothers clone, physically, and she’s about to be 60 and has just a dusting of grey, which didn’t start until hmm maybe ten years ago. 

but then, talking about  i dunno what with coworkers, i mentioned my first greys and my coworker said she started getting greys after her first big breakup and a stressful work time and i went ohhhh... yup. my ex is literally is giving me grey hair and, after last week’s anxiety-fueled stomach illness, literally making me sick. BUT I’M NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT THAT.

let’s talk about grey hair and aging. aging is a thing that happens to all life forms. except those immortal lobsters and i think jellyfish. we’re not designed to live forever. that’s okay. life wouldn’t mean much if it lasted forever. i mean look how fucked up vampires are knowing they have to live forever. it’s unnatural. oh right. fictional. or like on The OA (i finished it this weekend; i’m obsessed. where is season 2 goddamnit i need it) he’s trying to prove an afterlife or other dimensions after death. what would that mean to know death is not the end? people wouldn’t value this life as much. like fucking up in a video game. oh well, i’ll go play a different level now. 

so i’m almost 30. i can remember thinking 30 was a real adult. 30+ was married with kids, house and career level of grown up. everyone you thought was an adult, like your teachers, must be at least 30 because they’re adults with real jobs. (when you realize at some point in your twenties that your high school teachers were in their twenties that hits you hard) let’s blame the media of course. you think you go to college after high school and then there’s a blur of jobs-not-careers and partying and friends (like Friends) or something and then you’re THIRTY. AN ADULT. 

i accused my mom of being hypocritical once when she was watching The Hills with me and thought the girls were being dumb all in love with boyfriends they’d only had for 6 months. “excuse me you only dated dad for eighteen months before you were married.” “that’s different, we were old.” SHE WAS TWENTY FIVE. THAT WAS OLD FOR MARRIAGE IN THE EIGHTIES. 

this year i turn 30 three and a half months after my mom turns 60. when mom was was 30 she had been married for five years, had a two year old kid and popped out (two weeks late- sorry mom but i wanted to hold out for halloween) another one. she had been to school and got all her degrees, moved from saskatchewan to toronto when she married my dad and now was in a tiny rural town having babies and married to a minister.  literally my nightmare life at thirty. or any age. but she seems okay with it. 

physically i am my mother. well, i’m a bit taller, thanks dad. but we are nothing alike. she raised me, i guess, but nothing stuck. not the christianity. not the polite behaviour. not the commitment to academia. what a disappointment i was dying my hair, dressing in tutus, making a spectacle unbecoming of a good christian family, not living up to my potential in school. i don’t think she’s too ashamed of me anymore since i’ve got myself a stable job in a career i want (although, i am in the arts and when i was a teen insisting on film school she would stage whisper “there’s no money in the arts!” to discourage me) and she always shares on facebook when i’m on the radio reviewing movies. and despite my rebellious adolescence and still unnaturally colored hair, i must be the favorite of her two kids since the other is a constantly-stoned inconsistently employed idiot who still regularly asks her for money.

i wonder if my brother has grey hair yet. couldn’t possibly get any from stress; he’s constantly too stoned to feel stress. (i’m not exaggerating; when he was around for christmas he didn’t go more than a few hours without smoking, eating, or vaping. he ate a whole bag of weed gummies at once and took a long nap. no stress in that kind of life.)

so i’m twenty nine and have grey hairs. not worried about looks; i dye my hair and still get carded at the lcbo. but i am almost real adult thirty. 

fuck it. your thirties are the new twenties. still time to try new things. be single. change jobs. be super cool. but also old enough to be cynical towards the youths. back in my day we had to blow on video games to get them to work. i used to have to type texts on the number keys. i grew up on Clueless and saw Mean Girls in theatres. i don’t “stan” things because i am old enough to actually remember that Eminem album!

so basically i have no lesson for you; grey hairs did not inspire an epiphany on aging and life. grey hairs happen for everyone someday. i’m still alive so it’s all good. 

winter still makes me feel like i am sort of dead though. but i’ll make it to spring and come alive again.

Older than my face, younger than my hair.

Older than my face, younger than my hair.

Sharing is Caring: As I mentioned, I am obsessed with The OA and just started The Sinner, so I recommend both of those on Netflix. But for something to listen to: I reviewed Alita: Battle Angel and Isn’t It Romantic on CBC’s All in a Day last week. Di brings up Degrassi and I bring up Born Sexy Yesterday. What fun!

See you next Tuesday!