Authenticity is a word jumping around in my brain.
Stripping off the artificial, the disingenuous, to just be me.
I’m not sure if I love the real me or not.
It’s a struggle to lose the old identity, or at least the old hair color.
The new look is different, not terrible, but different. The gray is bright, and fine. Not yellow or coarse. Which is a plus.
My son said I looked ‘distinguished’. I don’t thing that was the look I was going for.
This authenticity is not what I thought it would be.