Holy crap, it's happened. The first one this past weekend, and now another today. I can't believe it.
I have found the first grey hairs on my head.
There I was, just minding my business, checking my reflection in the bathroom mirror after washing my hands ... and a glint caught my eye. A glint of silver. I tilted my head, thinking that the bathroom light was just playing tricks. My mind stubbornly thought, that can't be ... but it was a grey hair. A long one. Right there on top of my head. Winking at me. My mouth went dry, my heart started to pound. And then I reached up, almost without thinking, and yanked that bugger out. (Took quite a few other strands, too, to be honest. Kind of hurt.) I walked out of the bathroom, determined to forget it.
Only I couldn't - because, today, at work, I found another. Just as long, just as silvery. I suppose I should be thankful it wasn't growing out of my left nostril or my ear - but truthfully, I'm not feeling too thankful here. I'm thirty-five! (Okay, a month shy of 36, but who's counting, really?) Grey hairs are for OLD people! Is this it? Have I just crossed the threshold from "still young" to "getting up there"? Holy cats, when I was 10, I thought that grey hair equaled "old". No ifs, ands, or buts. Shamefully, I don't think I've ever really revised that world view ... but now I have to. Paradigm shift! I am on the ropes here, people! Reeling and punch-drunk, at the mercy of a couple of strands of stuff that are measured using words I don't even know (microns? miniliters? harrities?). It's the stuff of nightmares - wait, should I go to sleep tonight? What if they multiply? WHEN will they multiply?!
I always imagined myself aging "gracefully"; obviously, I was delusional. Will I get used to this? It's bad enough that gravity is slowly dragging my ass earthward ... now this! It's self-indulgent and wacko to go on like this, I know - it's just so weird. I've never liked my hair, but I don't think I fully appreciated the fact that it was soft and shiny, at least. If these two initial hairs are anything to go by, I will soon have a head full of toilet brush bristles. And, let's face it, men who go gray just look "distinguished" - women don't often have that adjective applied to them. I am envisioning something more along the lines of a mangy zebra. Where are the good adjectives for that? Well, shit.
My conclusion? There's only one answer here, folks: L'Oreal. On my way to the store now, for some preventive maintenance. Wish me luck. Perhaps it's time I found out if blondes really DO have more fun. (Just kidding ... or am I?)
When I am an old woman, I will NOT wear purple ... I will wear a damned hat, and visit my colorist twice a month. So there. Graceful, my ass.
I have found the first grey hairs on my head.
There I was, just minding my business, checking my reflection in the bathroom mirror after washing my hands ... and a glint caught my eye. A glint of silver. I tilted my head, thinking that the bathroom light was just playing tricks. My mind stubbornly thought, that can't be ... but it was a grey hair. A long one. Right there on top of my head. Winking at me. My mouth went dry, my heart started to pound. And then I reached up, almost without thinking, and yanked that bugger out. (Took quite a few other strands, too, to be honest. Kind of hurt.) I walked out of the bathroom, determined to forget it.
Only I couldn't - because, today, at work, I found another. Just as long, just as silvery. I suppose I should be thankful it wasn't growing out of my left nostril or my ear - but truthfully, I'm not feeling too thankful here. I'm thirty-five! (Okay, a month shy of 36, but who's counting, really?) Grey hairs are for OLD people! Is this it? Have I just crossed the threshold from "still young" to "getting up there"? Holy cats, when I was 10, I thought that grey hair equaled "old". No ifs, ands, or buts. Shamefully, I don't think I've ever really revised that world view ... but now I have to. Paradigm shift! I am on the ropes here, people! Reeling and punch-drunk, at the mercy of a couple of strands of stuff that are measured using words I don't even know (microns? miniliters? harrities?). It's the stuff of nightmares - wait, should I go to sleep tonight? What if they multiply? WHEN will they multiply?!
I always imagined myself aging "gracefully"; obviously, I was delusional. Will I get used to this? It's bad enough that gravity is slowly dragging my ass earthward ... now this! It's self-indulgent and wacko to go on like this, I know - it's just so weird. I've never liked my hair, but I don't think I fully appreciated the fact that it was soft and shiny, at least. If these two initial hairs are anything to go by, I will soon have a head full of toilet brush bristles. And, let's face it, men who go gray just look "distinguished" - women don't often have that adjective applied to them. I am envisioning something more along the lines of a mangy zebra. Where are the good adjectives for that? Well, shit.
My conclusion? There's only one answer here, folks: L'Oreal. On my way to the store now, for some preventive maintenance. Wish me luck. Perhaps it's time I found out if blondes really DO have more fun. (Just kidding ... or am I?)
When I am an old woman, I will NOT wear purple ... I will wear a damned hat, and visit my colorist twice a month. So there. Graceful, my ass.
