When Nothing is Black and White Anymore

First came the knowledge that I need to wear magnifying glasses at work and while reading. Then to add insult to injury I am washing my hands at the sink this morning and what do I see? A gray strand of hair staring back at me. Anyone who knows me will ask, how did you see it through the highlights? To this I say, it’s been since July since my last touch up and gray hair stands out against dark roots. Ugh!

I dug out a tuft of hair and separated the offending strand. Pluck! There in my hand was my first gray hair. I held it up to light, turning it this way and that, making sure it was indeed what I thought it was before I rushed out of the bathroom to tell my coworker. She hated to point out with the recent recommendation of glasses and now a gray hair it is time I face my aging. Ugh!

I came back in my office to call my mother. I’m not sure why since she is still laughing and calling me four eyes. She seems to take great pleasure in my age anxiety. This little tidbit of news started her laughing all over again as I sat there on the phone holding up the hair to anything black in my office, willing it to be blond not gray. Mother reminded me that when I was four years old or so she would sit on the floor in front of the couch while we watched television and I would scour her head plucking any gray hair I found. Well now it’s her turn.

The symbol of my rite of passage now rests in an envelope in my desk. I thought about labeling it in the event anyone goes looking for an envelope to send correspondence to an unsuspecting client but I couldn’t think of label that wasn’t too weird. “Jacqui’s First Gray- Do Not Open”. “Personal and Not So Confidential-Do Not Touch”. I’ll need to throw it away before days end but I’m just not ready. First I’m going to call my hairdresser and make an appointment to get these roots done. Any longer and who knows how many of the suckers I’ll find.