At age 23 I noticed a nasty little gray...actually I prefer silver....a nasty little silver hair sticking out from my thick, luxurious mane of brown hair. Not a problem, with in seconds of the discovery I took my tweezers and plucked the intruder out without a second thought. I figured it was a fluke, I was a young jubilant woman ready to take on the world. I didn't have time for silver hair.
A short time later I noticed that pesky out of place hair, again I plucked it out. I looked closer at my head and shrieked when I saw that it had brought it's twin. I took deep breathes as I assessed my battle strategy. Ok, there's only two of them; surely I can hide two little silver hairs AT LEAST until I get married. After we say "I do," he's stuck and has to love me for better or worse, through brown hair and gray...I mean silver.
So I did it, I hid my premature silver until I married Nate. He never even knew what hit him. One day I have a youthful head of brown hair, the next day he walks by me thinking I'm some random old woman sitting on our bed.
Part of my nightly routine was to brush my teeth, wash my face, pluck my silver hairs, wax my upper lip (I get that from my dad. Thanks Dad), then say my prayers. "Please let my gray hair and mustache go away." I would pray. Ever heard the song by Garth Brooks "Unanswered Prayers?" I hate that song.
Last week as I surveyed the damage and the plucked bald spots on my head, Nate walked up behind me and kindly said "I think you need to stop plucking the gray hairs (Silver!!! They're silver hairs fool!!) and just dye your whole head or you won't have any hair left."
I pretended to be wounded by his cruel words but in my heart I knew that he was right. My former life of carefree color was over.
The cause of this disaster is still up for debate. I've narrowed it down to three traumas in my life:
1-Being married to Nate, come on don't look at me like that, being married at all is stressful enough to send a strong woman to the mental institute for a needed vacation. But since I don't have any kids who else should I blame? My sister? Maybe.
2- Serving as Primary President, I seriously came home from church every day bawling and believe me I don't look good when I've had a hard cry. Nate would just hold me close to his chest so he wouldn't have to look at my red, swollen face.
3-Having a stressful boss who's been published in the Guinness Book of World Records as one of the Top 5 Stupidest People in the world (quite the honor don't you think?).
Heaven help me when I actually have kids. My hair will probably just fall out, at least the hair on top of my head. When I die I'll be buried bald and in a silver dress to match my handlebar mustache.