The Offending Strand
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.
21 Replies to “The Offending Strand”
My stylist has instructed me to call my gray hairs “ultra-blond.” So that was an ultra-blond hair on your head. Not a gray one. Just keep repeating this to yourself and you'll feel a little bit better. But yes, welcome to the club. At least you didn't wake up with a widow's peak.
by the way: rowr.
What, is it the alignment of the planets or something? I found a STREAK of gray in my hair Sunday morning. 25 is way too young to get a STREAK of gray. I'll be dying it this weekend, needless to say.
Girl! If you find just one single strand of gray hair, that's supposed to be good luck…
At least that's what I've always been told. :)
Lorie, the same thing happened to me. Unfortunately my one strand turned into a clump of like 80. Right in the front. I'm 26. I'm pretty sure this streak I'm developing is a genetic thing (several older family members have the same sort of thing), kind of like Bonnie Rait. Ugh. I hate it.
I'm a diligent plucker and try to get rid of most of them.
Lorie! Look at how cute you are! More than that, you're good-looking! Look at that mouth! guhd-lookin'. Sorry; had to be done.
Moving along – but taking another moment to pause 'cause it's not like we haven't been waiting for the new-glasses shot.
Okay – 1st. I'm happy to see a remark referencing an earlier comment I made. That makes my I'm-going-crazy-what-am-I-becoming?!-day.
2nd. Paddle? That story must be kept somewhere off-line, I'm sure.
3rd. You'd make a terrific Gray, or, “Silver Fox”, as they say. -that is, the old people say that anyway.
4th. It happens to the best of You dear. The best of “you”.
5th. Come to Dallas already; we can get our hair cut together.
i'm fairly certain that you wrote something, but i was distracted by the glasses and implied peacoat.
I've got 'em. I dye 'em.
Well. You are old. You're almost 25 and that's almost mid 20's… and that's almost 30. You should just retire, and move to a home. A nursing home. Or any kind of home really. People shouldn't live at home when they're all old and gray! OR grey? :) Love ya.
I name my gray hairs. I like the photo though… Nice glasses.
Wasn't kdding. Not sarcasm. Actually like glasses. I am dork. Apologize in case taken wrong way
I hear dork is the new chic.
And chic is the new black.
and green is the new red
up is the new chuck
shut up… i didn't mean for it to post twice…
Posting twice is the new something something.
something something is the new mmhm, mmhm.
(btw , one of andrea's friends keeps a list of any “___ is the new ___” things. they are the awesome.)
also, it is nice being home, becuase i can check this DURING THE DAY. whoa.
You've got great hair, even if there was an interloper. Great cut!
You're first hint of mortality. Mine was when I turned 22. Trim the sails, man the tiller, and peer into the horizon; the journey's underway for real now.
I think the gray hair would only serve to make you look more distinguished. Of course I'm blond and 31, and haven't had to face that reality yet, so maybe that's easy for me see. Nice pic!
Did I say “see”. Meant to say “say”. You'll have to forgive me… I was double checking that I didn't have any grey hairs while I was typing.