Today I found my first gray hair.
It was unassuming; I almost didn’t notice it.
I spent a healthy 5-10 minutes prior, looking into the super magnifying mirror — a guilty pleasure of mine — analyzing my pores, and stray eyebrow hairs. After a thorough examination of all my imperfections, I looked up to see the ultimate reminder of my mortality…dun, dun, dun…a long, wiry gray hair.
How had I not noticed it before? It obviously had been growing for a while. And, I definitely spend a fair portion of time (more than I should) in front of the magnifier mirror.
So, what does this mean? Am I old now? Am I stressed? Hold on while I google “signs of early aging” and “why do some people gray early?”.
Though I am so not cool with being a gray foxy mama yet, I also weirdly felt relieved when I found it. Like, somehow it made sense, because I feel like I’m getting older. In a way, it felt like I deserve that gray hair.
So, even though I plucked it within two seconds of finding that wiry, gray strand, I’m sorta happy I found it. It feels like a sign of reassurance. Yeah, it’s weird and over-analytical, but so am I, so I guess it all works in the end.
and that’s been the latest edition of weird observations I unnecessarily put into writing.