This morning, like every other morning, I brushed my hair. One hair in particular caught my eye because it was so very blonde - kinda white-blonde. Later, Z came and said good-bye. He stopped mid-sentence and stared at something on my head. I instantly knew that that hair was not in fact blonde: it was grey. My first grey hair.
My Dad only started going grey when he hit his 50's. He and I both have very fine, dead straight hair. My mum, on the other had, was white by her mid-20's. She has thick, wiry hair that's ranged in color from blonde to auburn to brown (all natural). I figured that because I had my dad's hair and was not yet grey, I had a long life of hair color before me. Perhaps it is not to be.
I know, I know - it's just *one* hair. And yet, there's nothing "just" about discovering a grey hair. It is one of the many "grown-up" things are happening to me this year. They don't add up to me feeling like an adult, though. I wonder when that will happen. Perhaps with the third grey hair?
1 comment:
oh my... a little more um, delicate observation on Z's part would have been nice. stopping mid-sentence? that's a little bit extreme, because there's nothing extreme about one grey hair. have you really looked at my husband lately? (well... the last time you were here). *that's* grey. and i like it :)
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