When I turned 16, my dad taught me how to drive. That same summer, his hair went from virtually black, to mostly white. Maybe it was the driving lessons, maybe just a coincidence of time.
A few years ago, I noticed my first white hair. It stuck out of my head like a crazy antennae, and it was then that I realized as an old lady, I might have hair that made me look as if I had just put my finger in an electric socket. I didn't notice another until today.
A few hours ago, I looked in the mirror and noticed two more white hairs sticking straight out. I share this with you in case the next time you see me, you feel compelled to ask me if I have recently electrocuted myself.
Rest assured. I have not.
But I have worked hard for those white hairs, and I'm not about to color them.
Bring it, old age. I'm ready. (And it is not lost on me that today, my sister celebrates her 40th birthday.) I'm pretty sure her husband isn't posting on his blog about any white hairs on her head.
Elaine
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