Subtleties of the Stars

I sat on the decking at lunch. It was burning hot and summer had definitely arrived even if it might be only for a coupe of days but there would be no shortage of vitamin D for me, even if it meant putting up with a little hay fever, the lapping of the water and the squark and laughing calls of sea gulls and chirps of little sparrows hoping around cafe tables waiting for generous patrons to carelessly drop crumbs from a fat saturated croissants and hot cheese goo cafe paninis.

It was nice, at least, and despite being sat on the floor, to lay back against the cold stone wall for a moment, close my eyes and just listen to those sea front sounds. That glug of the diesel boat waiting for tourists fares was even relaxing. I had felt a bit lost the last few weeks. Ups and down without explanation and a laissez faire attitude to the gender thing despite feeling elated at the end of those weekly park runs.

A small ex-fishing boat bubbled it’s way across the near flat water of the bay with a mother and daughter sat at the front royally and a sailing boat in the distance slowly made its way over in replacement. A US citizen grabbed her camera and pointed it down at the water from the metal railings several feet above the waters edge and exclaimed to her ‘couple’ friends in a thick Californianesq accent, “Look! A swan! On the ocean!” We were a few hundred miles from the ocean and it would probably be difficult to know whether the still water was even part of the sea, but the surprise and almost child-like glee at something that seemed so simple on the surface was something to behold. Life shouldn’t always be so deep, sometimes appreciating the supposed simple things the world has to offer is the key to happiness. It was by chance a social media post popped up, right now, by the great Paul McKenna, “Take a moment each day to step back, evaluate the task in front of you and let your thoughts flow.” It doesn’t get more true than this, and I know this, I just have to remind myself to ‘remember’ this.

I think one of the main things I tend to think about these days is age. I know people sort their gender identity out at any age and like most I wish I’d done something about it when I was 20 but each morning I’m sure I find another grey hair. It’s not like I have lots of grey roots and the rest is dark, I’m dark all over with full length grey hair strands amongst the rest. I found my first grey the day before my 30th birthday, which itself seems so long ago, and ever since they’ve been sneakily populating their way amongst my hair. If I use straighteners after washing my hair, I’ll see them all easily. I felt like I wanted to catch them now rather than going all grey and then one day miraculously everyone will see I’m brunette again.

I had mentioned it to my Mum a few weeks ago and after some colour matching the week before I decided to go ahead and get some permanent colour done but it was funny the day before how I suddenly questioned it much like any other gender identity change I might suddenly decide on. How was I really going to feel about this? I looked in the mirror. I had been for a run and so my hair was still damp and it looked dark. Did I really need this. Would I suddenly feel fake? The last thing I wanted was to feel fake, non-genuine and unauthentic. I always felt so lucky that unlike some male family and friends that I have kept my hair. Not just long but actually kept it. It hadn’t decided to buy a one way ticket for retirement in some island off the coast of Thailand. I was also proud that it was still thick, luscious and generally, on the whole dark brunette with gold streaks bleached by the sun.

I kind of went into automatic. I couldn’t come up with an answer and before I knew it I was sat in a chair in my Mums kitchen having permanent dye syrup painted onto long strands from root to tip and twenty minutes later with my head over a bowl having it washed out with the bowl water slowly turning brown. It was done. “Don’t worry –” she said while I was looking at a bowl of small choppy waves centimetres away and froth trickling down my face, “the brown on your skin will wash right off.”

“That’s ok.” I said, “As long as you didn’t mix it up with a tube of Veet and I’m going to suddenly see a bowl of brown hair.”

I checked in the mirror once my hair was dry. It was fine, subtle, barely noticeable until I got home. I don’t know what it was about the large gold painted framed fancy mirror in my hall but I could suddenly see the difference. Natural but I felt like I’d gone back in time. It wasn’t a typical, ‘do you feel ten years younger?’ It was just like I’d been repaired. It was like I’d replaced an old t-shirt with a brand new one that had fresh thick screen print on the front and the smell of fresh unwashed factory dyes.

A weekend – a week later – I found myself at sunset on top of the hill just a mile or two down the road watching the crayon saturated orange sky sink behind silhouetted forest lined hill tops. Things were still changing. They were slow and so subtle that they were nearly unnoticeable. Like watching the tide coming in or the moon and stars move across the sky, you can see them move if only to take the time to stare and watch long enough. It’s the same with moving with identity. Take that deck chair out into the 10pm night sky, lay back and, just for a moment, take in the change and enjoy finding that happiness.

Until next time,

Hannah x

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4 thoughts on “Subtleties of the Stars

  1. I’ve been dying my hair for about 15 years now, first dark brown to just get rid of the greys (hairs not aliens, I don’t think that works against aliens) and then about 5 years ago I decided to go blonde, so every 4 months I went a shade lighter.

    I do like the idea of a dark red, but it’s a lot of maintenance.

    I may go dark again one day, but my roots show so much less as a blonde. 😮

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