My Crowning Glory

I've had my share of issues with the aging process, but I feel like I've learned to embrace it fairly well. I've even watched those gray hairs pop up in my dark brown hair with increasing frequency, and, after the initial falling-to-my-knees, weeping, and asking-God-"why me?" jag, I've been completely fine with them. Really, I want to grow old gracefully, embrace my gray hair like those really cool earthy (a.k.a. hippie) moms with their salt and pepper pony tails and containers of home made hummus they bring to the park for their childrens' snack. Gray hairs? Whatever. You can take your shame inducing tendencies and bury them in a box. My gray hairs will serve as my badge of honor showing how mature and independent I am. Not vain at all. Not me.

But I'll fess up. I've been fine with those grays because, for the most part, they stay concealed under my still-brown curtain of hair. Most of them reside on the right side of my head, kind of level with the top of my ear. So they get lost in the rest of my hair. But I know they're there and they don't bother me a bit. (Remember, the badge of honor bit.) My hair stylist, Jason, constantly wants to flip my hair and part it on the other side. And I'm all, dude, that is where the hot bed of grays lie. Don't uncover them! The oxygen will probably make them multiply. But I go home, flip my hair back, safely covering the evidence of my lost youth. (And don't get me wrong, Jason is the best stylist I've ever been with. He just wants me to appear old evidently.)

And then the real kicker ocurred. One night while getting ready to head out, there it stood in the mirror. Staring back at me was one lone gray hair standing proudly IN THE MIDDLE OF MY PART. This one declared war. This one said, "Who are you trying to kid lady? You can't hide us forever you old hag." I feel differently about this lone ranger. He'll inevitably need a kemo sabe.

And so now, I don't know how I feel about the salt and pepper ponytail mom anymore. She seems so cliche. Do I dye the hair, pluck the hair, accept the hair? I've never thought of myself as vain but...I guess I think this blog is about me.