For Our 30th Wedding Anniversary, My Husband Gifted Me a Hair Dye for My Silver Hair – I Decided to Teach Him a Lesson
Being elderly is a privilege that not everyone can enjoy. When my hair started going gray, I used to tell myself that. It was difficult at first. And although I struggled with my concerns, I eventually came to appreciate my salt-and-pepper hair as people started to compliment it.
I had no idea that my spouse had different ideas.
We were approaching our thirty-first wedding anniversary, and since it was such a significant occasion, I wanted to make it unforgettable.
I made a reservation at our favorite restaurant and ordered Deon a lovely watch. He observed me intently while I was getting ready for the evening.
“What’s that look for?” I questioned, arching my brow.
“Nothing, Eve,” he said, his lips revealing a sinister grin. We’ll see over dinner. I’m going to surprise you!”
“A surprise, huh? I’m quite excited!” I answered, with a mixture of curiosity and exhilaration.
Deon had spoiled me with some amazing gifts in the past, so I figured he would attempt to top himself for our anniversary.
“Nothing, Eve,” he said, his lips revealing a sinister grin. We’ll see over dinner. I’m going to surprise you!”
“A surprise, huh? I’m quite excited!” I answered, with a mixture of curiosity and exhilaration.
Deon had spoiled me with some amazing gifts in the past, so I figured he would attempt to top himself for our anniversary.
With a smile, my spouse remarked, “Let’s order first,” pointing to the menu. “As usual, I will prepare the steak. How about you? The salmon?”
I gave a nod. We had grown very at ease with one another. Every move felt natural and natural at the same time, almost like a practiced routine.
“This is yours to take,” Deon remarked, passing me a small gift pouch. “I believed you would enjoy it. and be grateful for it.”
A box of jet-black hair dye was there.
My stomach roiled violently.
“What’s this?” Attempting to maintain composure and a steady tone, I asked.
He said, “It’s hair dye, Eve,” as if that were the most obvious thing ever. “I thought you’d like it.”
“Hair dye?” I repeated. “Because I have gray hair?”
“Yeah, naturally, it’s for your gray hair,” he answered with a frustrated tone. “I thought you’d want to look younger.”
I suppressed a smile so as not to spoil the evening.
I whispered, “Thank you,” as I returned the box to its gift bag and let it dangle from the chair handle.
“What about my gift?” Without noticing how his actions had wounded me, Deon asked joyfully.
I reluctantly moved the watch box to the other side of the table. He grabbed it with lightning speed.
“Oh, Eve!” he cried out. “This is fantastic! Nevertheless, my previous one had served its time.”
I gave him a terse “I’m glad you like it,” not wanting to reveal that the watch had a message engraved on its underside.
My sweetie, happy 30th anniversary.
I couldn’t quit thinking about it for the following few days. I didn’t understand why he was so disturbed by my gray hair. especially considering that he already had gray hair. We were in our fifties and no one thought we would still look young.
Unless, of course, that was precisely what he wanted.
“So, you think that trying to look younger is going to make Deon regret the hair dye?” Susan, my closest friend, inquired about our next tea date.
“Yes,” I answered. “If he’s ashamed of me now, just you wait.”
“Oh, Eve,” Susan bellowed. “I cannot wait to see what you do next.”
I colored my hair jet black the following day. Seeing my mirror with such dark hair after all this time seemed weird.
However, it did take me back to my childhood.
Naturally, I didn’t stop there.
Susan accompanied me on a shopping trip. I purchased clothing that gave the impression that I was attempting to relive my childhood.
Susan said, “Eve,” while we were in a clothes store. “This is extreme, even for you.”
Styles include fashionable shirts and tight pants.
I started to appear like I was attempting to look twenty again by the end of the day.
“So, now what?” Susan enquired.
“I’m heading to Deon’s office tomorrow wearing my new clothes. I’ll buy him lunch so he may meet the guy he’s attempting to imitate.”
The following morning, my spouse arrived at work as usual and saw me dressed in my go-to black hair color and old clothes.
It was intended to be a later surprise.
I prepared some pasta salad for Deon and stored it, prepared to give it to him when I was ready to go.
Then I made a shift.
I said to myself in the mirror, “Okay, Eve.” “We’re doing this.”
“Hey, honey!” I remarked with a smile as I carried his lunch into his office.
My spouse examined me from head to toe and then peered over my shoulder, perhaps to check whether any of his coworkers were observing.
His voice was full of disbelief as he said, “What happened to you?”
“Do you like it?” I spun around. “I thought you wanted me to look younger.”
“Well, Eve. I did, but,” he stumbled, appearing ashamed. “But maybe not like this.”
Oh, please, I teasingly said. “You requested that I color my hair. I intended to give it my all.”
“It’s simply that you appear too… distinct,” he said, finding difficulty in expressing himself.
“Different how?” There was a biting edge to my question, even though my tone remained light.
My spouse let out a sigh and massaged his temples.
You don’t resemble who you are. This is simply excessive.”
“Is it?” I inquired, hoping he would go on.
“I wanted you to feel better about yourself,” he continued, sounding irritated. “Not… this.”
“Well, I feel fantastic,” I declared, grinning broadly.
With a “look, darling,” he spoke. “I have some upcoming meetings. Let’s fasten this with a pin.”
Without saying anything, I left Deon’s office and headed home. I was aware that I had made him feel uncomfortable, and that had always been my goal.
My spouse returned home that evening looking defeated.
As he entered our bedroom, his voice grew softer and he said, “Can we talk, Eve?”
Naturally, I replied as I sat up straight.
He started, “I didn’t mean to upset you.” “I just figured you would enjoy it. I noticed you staring at yourself in the mirror and wondered if you were content with your gray hair.”
“What?” I let out a gasp.
“I felt content,” I answered. “Yes, I am. Simply put, those grays merged with me. They narrate the tale of our shared life. And, Deon, they’ve helped me feel more at ease with myself.”
“I apologize,” he replied, lowering his gaze. “I didn’t mean to change you.”
“It’s alright,” I answered. “I absolve you. But you have to realize that I’m satisfied just the way I am; I don’t need to look younger. I adore how my hair looks.”
My husband rubbed my feet and whispered, “I understand.”
Still, my husband’s apologies didn’t help me feel better; on the contrary, it made me question my identity even more.
I opened out to Susan one afternoon over coffee and shared my feelings with her.
I said, “I just don’t get it.” He wanted me to change first, and eventually I did. And after that, Deon says he only wants me to be content? Why then don’t I feel content?”
Susan grabbed my hand from across the table.
“Occasionally, men may be so naive. She remarked, “It’s likely that he believed he was doing something good.
“Or maybe he’s having a mid-life crisis,” I replied. “I don’t understand Deon sometimes.”
We conversed back and forth about Deon, and how one thoughtless thing I had done had made me believe that I was not good enough for him because it was what made me feel comfortable in my own skin.
I noticed that as the weeks passed, I was thinking about our anniversary and the meaning behind the gift more and more.
I thought it was time for another chat one evening as we were having dinner.
“Can we talk about something?” I put down my fork and asked.
He looked up from the chicken on his plate and replied, “Sure.” “What’s on your mind, love?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about our anniversary,” I said. “And the gift you gave me.”
His expression dimmed. “I thought we were past that.”
Deon grabbed his glass of water and took a fast drink.
“We are,” I blurted out. “But I need you to understand why it hurt me so much.”
He nodded, “Okay, I’m listening.”
You seemed to be telling me that I wasn’t good enough, and it has seriously damaged my sense of self-worth. I’m competent enough. There is nothing wrong with my hair.”
“I never meant it that way,” he added, guilt pouring over his words. “I do accept you as you are.”
“Then you must realize that the gray hairs on our heads serve as a constant reminder that we are growing older. I remarked, “But the best part is that we’re growing older together.
Then Deon got up to give me a hug. And when we locked arms, I experienced a wave of tranquility. No matter how hard we tried to stop time from passing, we couldn’t. However, we could confront it together, with acceptance and love.