I just have to write down this rant in response to a friend’s complaint about losing count of her newly (but obviously not fondly) found grey hair. Because I’ve got the same gripe. When it comes to growing err… less-young, I can handle wrinkles – laugh lines and crow’s feet and whatnots, they’re alright. But grey hair! I really don’t like them. We just don’t click, you know. About a year ago I noticed a few strands sprouting up on my own head. There were not that many and they could still be counted on my fingers, and funnily enough, are always found in the same spots. So consistent are they about their “locations” (must have been blue-chips) that I can track them down and serve them an eviction notice even before they get to an inch in length.
But then. But then last week I got my hair cut really short and holy keratin! There are so many more of the darn things and they are now more visible. Still can’t wrap my head around it. I mean, they just sprung on me like THAT! Poof! There they are. How magical! Like they got together just before my 30th and schemed up an evil plan, nodding their little grey (!) heads to each other, listen up now guys, tomorrow is the day! Zero hour fast approaching! Aaaaand… STRIKE! And so here I am, with what feels like a million of them, fighting for territory. The other day I asked m’ to help me get back at them with a pair of tweezers and she was so distressed, she had to stop after 5 strands. And I was like, What? Why are YOU upset? It’s me who’s going bold here! Keep at it! She must have been seeing her own future. My poor baby!
So well, a few weeks ago I was boasting to some friends, about how being in one’s 30’s feels so much better than one’s 20’s, and that I’ve only been down this road for 3 months and I could already relate to that. Is it ironic, now, if I publish an amendment, that yeah, it’d be so true, if it wasn’t for the stupid party-poopers that are grey hair?
~already more than happy with my pepper, stop sending me salt!~