Little Earthquakes

February 20th, 2009. Found my first gray hair.

It couldn’t have been more odd. I was in the bathroom at work, came out of the stall and walked forward to wash my hands. Something had ruffled my hair up, and the light hit it at just the appropriate angle to “shine on my crazy diamond.” I was so aghast that I said, “No f***ing way!” out loud, getting a snort from the feet in the third stall over, and walked out the door with a paper towel in one hand and the offending strand in the other.

My coworker Sean was walking by at that moment, and stopped dead when he saw me…whether from my horrific expression or arms-akimbo tree impression, I don’t know. Upon receiving the explanation for my behavior, he sweetly commented that “it might just be the lighting.” But his eyes told a different story…full of pity at my hastening decline.

I’m truly just kidding about most of it; I don’t know why, but I’m actually kind of…tickled. Maybe because it feels like a new connection to my maternal lineage…my grandmother went totally gray by the age of twenty, and Mom and I used to talk about what her full-on grayness would look like when it happened. She always used to say that, from the strands she had, she figured it would be silver rather than the darker gray, and I think she would’ve been right. Mine looks fairly silver, too, and definitely has that “wiry” texture you always hear about.

Ah well. Bring it on, follicles. I think I’ve earned you.