I found my first grey hair last night.
I am 34 years, one month and 11 days old.
And honestly, it hit me harder than I expected.
My mom has greys (though they are covered up nicely, shhh), my almost 40-year-old sister has greys, my dad HAD greys…before he lost them all.
So I suppose genetics never gave me any indication that I wouldn’t eventually get some myself, but somehow my mind continued to live in denial, assuming I would never be the one to look in the mirror, gasp, and then run to my husband, begging him to tell me it was really a random sun-bleached blonde strand in a head full of dark brown.
I realize that 34 is hardly halfway over the hill but for some reason, despite the mortgage, two kids, SUV and retirement plan, I have always felt like I was really still 22.
People kind of look at me like I am 22. I still like most of the music I liked when I was 22. I read many of the same magazines I did when I was 22. I eat in very much the same way that I did when I was 22 (for better or for worse…but mainly for worse, who are we kidding?).
So to suddenly be 34 and be looking 34 and be feeling 34 is…well, not very 22 of me.
This morning, that hair was still there. I didn’t pluck it, because we all know what comes of that.
But I didn’t have the time to stare at it.
I threw on my Ray-Bans and flip flops like I did when I was 22. I got in the car to drive Little D to school and the 90’s on 9 cranked out a song I loved when I was 22. I sat down at my desk and logged into Facebook as I would have done if it was around when I was 22. I chatted with my best friend, who was one of my best friends when I was 22.
And I realized that while the hairline may be whispering 34, as long as my soul is still screaming 22, at least some of the time, then I can embrace that hair.
I can relish in the new aches I have throughout my body. I can enjoy the fact that I am the one responsible for two little people now. I can be proud that my ideal Friday night involves me, my husband, some wine and maybe a DVD, that I will likely fall asleep in front of.
I can embrace that damn hair.
As long as another one doesn’t join it anytime soon.
*Photo via here