Friday, January 21, 2011

I have a stalker. Several, actually.

They sneak up on me, seemingly during the night. I am startled to find them so close when I wake. I have gone through great lengths to make them stay away. I've told them to leave. I've tried to hide from them. I have even forcibly removed them from my life.

But still they return. I am being stalked - by gray hairs!

I have plucked, and colored, and hidden these little pests, but they are resilient. In my brown hair, they manage to shine like diamonds and poke out like chicken wire. Each gray hair has a mind of its own.
Despite my best efforts to fight these nuisances, I always manage to miss a few. I have been astounded by a 5-inch long gray hair on more than one occasion.

My father has had gray hair for as long as I can remember. I definitely have his genes; my appearance mirrors his side of the family. And, (yikes!) I am probably not too far from the age when the total gray descended upon him. For a man, gray is no big deal. It looks distinguished. It's completely acceptable. For me, however? I'm not so sure.

My name, Julie, means "youthful one". For the most part, I live up to that in personality. However, I suspect no one informed my hair. It is anything but youthful these days.

What are you doing this weekend? I'm browsing the hair color aisle... again.
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