Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Its official: I'm Over the Hill

I found my first gray hair.

It’s not surprising, really. I’m over, ahhm, 40, and I’ve been through some major stress over the last couple of years. I’m extremely fortunate that I don’t look my age, trust me I know! Most people find it hard to believe that I have a 20 year old son although when I look closely in the mirror I’ve started to see some lines forming. Not to mention that if I look too close I have to pull back because reading glasses are in my future. But gray hair, didn’t see that one coming.

Of course where I found this insulting discovery is another matter itself. I was at Starbucks waiting in the drive though lane. Yeah I know, you have to wonder if its cosmic justice for wasting spending so much time of my life in that drive through lane. But its common knowledge that I have a Starbucks addiction and although admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery I’m not quite ready for a 12 Step Program yet. By the way, did anyone else notice that Starbucks 3rd quarter profits decreased in 2007 and did anyone else realize that I was out of the country for about half of the 3rd quarter? Coincidence? You be the judge.

But back to my gray hair.

There I was minding my own business and looking in my rearview mirror and I see a hair that looks very much lighter in color than the hair around it. That in itself didn’t necessarily mean anything. I have very dark brown hair and do have some highlights in my hair but its been awhile since I’ve had my highlights done and this decolorized hair was obviously the same color down to the root.

“I think I found a gray hair!” I announced in an incredulous voice.

Ross was with me. I wasn’t just talking to myself although even if I had been alone I’m sure I would have done the exact same thing. “Where?” he asked, sounding just as incredulous.

I picked up the offending strand in my thumb and forefinger. “Here!”

He leaned closer to me. “That’s not a gray hair; its blond.” Ross was already becoming bored by my hysterics.

I plucked it out and held it toward him. “SEE! Its gray!!! I HAVE A GRAY HAIR!!!”

He took it from me, looked at it and tossed it out the window. “It was blond. Mom, you don’t have gray hair.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe it was blond. If I was going gray wouldn’t there be more gray hairs? But the rest of the drive home was spent mulling over the decision as to whether to color my hair when I go gray or age gracefully.

A couple of days later I had been placated into denial until waiting in the Starbucks drive through lane. As I waited I looked in the rearview mirror checking out my hair and low and behold, there was another gray hair!!! ARH! I plucked it out, more difficult this time because it was shorter than the other and pretty wirey, but once I examined it more closely there was no denying it. It was a gray hair.

I think I’ll be investing in some Miss Clairol stock.

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