Last night when I got home from work, I dropped off my bags in my room, changed into lounging clothes, put my hair into a ponytail, and went in the bathroom to wash my face – my standard evening routine. (I usually get the face-washing out of the way right after work, because otherwise I’m likely to forget.)
- That picture on the right was taken a few weeks ago in an attempt to show you all the green coat, but I’m an idiot with aiming the camera at the mirror and got a shot of my head all tiny in the middle of the bottom of the photo, surrounded by bleak white wall. Oh, and the sorority paddle which you can still sort of see on the wall behind me. Yeah, don’t ask.
- Since I’m talking about washing my face, I just thought I’d mention that I’m recently devoted to the Bath & Body Works Pure Simplicity line, specifically Rice Skin-Balancing Face Wash and Face Lotion. I think I’ve outgrown most of the rest of their products – they smell too strong – but I’ve been using this stuff for a couple of months or so and it is really super great.
as I leaned forward to splash water on my face, a strand of hair right by my part caught the light. I saw it immediately.
Is it – no, it couldn’t be, I thought to myself, but while I finished up with the rinsing, it plagued me.
Maybe it was a blonde strand. I had blonde hair as a child and will sometimes find golden strands in amongst the brown it has turned over the years.
I patted dry and put my glasses back on, and got about an inch away from the bathroom mirror to take a better look at the strand. I still wasn’t sure, and I was afraid I’d lose sight of it if I moved my hair or took my eyes away for even a moment. So I blindly groped around the side of the sink until my hand closed on a pair of tweezers, which I used to isolate and then pluck the offending strand.
Which was most certainly, unmistakably GRAY.
I pinched that damn gray strand of hair tightly between my thumb and forefinger and went tearing out of the bathroom toward the kitchen, where my mom was on the phone with my grandmother.
“DO YOU SEE THIS?” I asked, holding it right next to her face.
“What is it?” she asked. I waved it around menacingly.
“This,” I announced, “is a GRAY HAIR THAT JUST CAME OUT OF MY HEAD.”
She laughed, and told my grandma why she was laughing, and I’m sure my grandma laughed too.
In the living room, Sammi and Jamie wanted to know what I was fussing about. I stomped in with the strand and made them turn on the lamp next to where they were sitting and showed it to them.
“This is my first gray hair,” I said. “Right here. Gray.”
Sammi suggested that maybe it was one of Gordon’s hairs, since we haven’t gotten around to switching her with a gypsy yet.
“NO IT IS NOT A GORDON HAIR. I PLUCKED IT OUT OF MY HEAD WITH A PAIR OF TWEEZERS!” was my psychotic response.
And then Sammi and Jamie laughed at me too.
I told them I was saving it and took it back to my room and carefully put it right on top of my jewelry box. I forgot to check today to see if it was still there, though.
You know, I’ve always told myself that when I grow older and begin to get gray hair, that I’ll just go with the whole aging thing and not try to fight it. But I was really kind of annoyed with that gray hair, because it was seriously right in the front and didn’t match the rest of my hair. And I didn’t really expect to begin graying at 24, but hey – I guess it happens to the best of us.
Or maybe it was an anomaly, and the rest of my hair is totally fine and not even a little gray at all.
Only time will tell.