The Brave and the Grey

In which our Heroine Considers Dying—um I Meant Dyeing.

My hair is going gray. (sudden sob)  I’ve noticed a few gray hairs sprouting for some time, but last night I saw more.  As I looked in the mirror just before bed, I saw that my hair was a little lacking in luster—yes that’s the word: lackluster up near the scalp.  It seemed pale.  I thought to myself, Is my hair thinning up there? (shock: whatever this is, I will almost certainly sob soon) baldness seemed impossible given that I have always had this huge mane.  So I crept closer to Traitorous Mirror, and found that about an inch from the scalp on either side of the part was pretty—scratch that word—very gray.  (surprise hiccup sob)  What?  This never happens, does it?  All the people I know had a few grow at first then slowly more begin to turn.  But an abrupt inch?  What is that about? (frustrated sigh-sob).

Gray is such a boring color.  Why can’t we at least use grey instead?  The British can make anything look right by dressing it up in faux splendor.  Gray (yarrgh sob).  Grey (silence, almost).

Meanwhile, I woke this morning and immediately thought, my-hair-is-gray.  (groggy sob)  I tried to lie there longer, but it was too pathetic. (pathetic sob) So off to the shower I went, uselessly hoping to wash the gray away.  Oh wait, its hair dye that washes out. (wet blubbering sob).  Oh no! What if I have to start dyeing my hair! (mnmmmnnn: high whiny drawn out sob) Then: (sharply indrawn breath ending in shaky sob) Dyeing sounds an awful lot like dying—are they even spelled differently?  Microsoft Word tells me that they are.  Still: (hounds baying to the moon howl/sob).

Things I will lose if I truly turn gray:

The potential ability to flaunt.

All final joy in looking in the mirror.

The final, grasping hold on youth.

Money due to hair coloring product.

Probably the nice texture of my hair as it will be replaced by the wiry grayness of both of my grandmothers.

My husband’s love.  Just kidding, I hope.

All appearances of normality.  I’m already weird enough, I don’t need to add a semi-youthful face staring out of an ugly gray. 

Happiness, because I can only be depressed from now on.

My pride, as I will have to face the certain indignity of using the word gray at the DMV.

The former belief that brain surgery is worse than anything I could ever experience.

 

Alternativly, I guess I could show my gray stripes and go out with nobility.  After all, I have earned them, haven’t I?  The problem here being that I don’t have a noble bone in my body.  Pride yes, nobility no.  Oh how I mourn my misspent youth (grief-stricken, somewhat despondent sob) May the humility stop now (fervently sobbed, quickly stopped).  Well, I don’t have to let it get me permanently down.  This one I can hide.  I will fight this turn of events.  I might even do it with richer color (short sob of quickened resolve).