I had one grey hair at the age of 13, and my mom told me not to pull it out. She said that one hundred more would grow in its place.
I did anyway. No more ever showed up. Until today.
One grey hair atop my head sits lonely and waiting for friends.
I’m 31 this year and it was only a matter of time, right? I’m not mad, just surprised. I dye my hair anyway so it doesn’t really matter. I earned it, honestly. With all the traumas, heartache, and freaking motherhood, I’m kinda proud that I don’t have any more.
While I was having my freak out moment after seeing that pesky hair I realized that what I needed to do was write down my thoughts.
So here it is, a letter to my own dang hair, I swear I’m a sane person y’all.
Dear Grey Hair,
It’s very rude to show up unannounced. You can’t just pop up like that. Call first, text me, send me a smoke signal- something to help with terror I just endured. I was just innocently looking at myself in the mirror while bathing my son and saw something shiny in my hair. As I looked closer I realized that it was you. Not cool man.
I want you to know that you are welcomed here, but I am not ready to give you warm hugs. My mom, who is 66, is just now comfortable with growing her hair out and owning that silver trophy she so well deserves. She is going to look spectacular by the way!
Get ready because, while you can stay, I will be dying you for the foreseeable future. It won’t hurt at all, you’ll be fine. Promise. Just after the salons can reopen again. Insert big eye roll {here}
I want to make a deal with you though, okay? I want to age gracefully and in order to do that imma need ya to sloooow it way down. One, or two of you are okay but please don’t let your brother, sister, uncle, aunt, or your friend’s friend’s sister show up over night. Also, please tell your friend Wrinkle to stay away for now too since we are on the subject.
In return I promise not to pull you out and embrace you one day in the far off future.
