I was washing my hands in the powder room this evening and glanced in the mirror. Much to my horror, a shiny strand of hair was peeking out at me.
ELIZABEEEETHHHH!! COME HERE PLEASE!?
My daughter came to the door and peeked in. I was standing in front of the mirror, pointing to my head.
Is this what I think it is?????
She took one glance and it was all over.
Oh, Mom…yep. It’s a gray hair. But it’s just one! And you’re 46, not 47!
She was trying to make me feel better by referring to the fact that up until a month ago, I thought I was turning 47 this year. I even challenged a friend who is the same age as me and asked him how he could be 46, when I’m going to be 47! “What year were you born?!”, I asked. “1966”, he replied. Whoa…I just got back a whole year!
But back to the mirror – I started to tear up. I don’t know if I was laughing or crying. I think it was crying.
Then my very, very, VERY gray-haired husband came to the bathroom door…and laughed at me. When I kicked his ass out, he complained loudly that I shared with my daughter first and not my husband.
“You fricken laughed, you dill weed! Is it any wonder I didn’t call you first!?”
Then I went upstairs to rip the fucker out. By the time I scrounged for the tweezers, it had disappeared.
Oh, but it’ll be back. And like the zombie apocalypse, it will bring friends. Lots and lots of brain sucking friends.
Stupid, zombie, gray-hair, brain-sucking friends. GAH!
Tomorrow, I’m dying it auburn. Zombies hate auburn. They go after the gray-haired old coots first.
W e’re They’re slower.
Yep. I need to color my hair because of zombies.