I found another white hair!
I’ve always had one white hair for as long as I can recall. In seventh grade a friend found it, announced it, and yanked it.
“Hey!” I protested. “That’s my hair.”
“If you pull one out three more grow back,” another friend protested.
“That’s scientifically improbable,” I paused from my indignation to point out.
It grew back. Only one hair. And it’s been there, smack in the middle of the front of my head ever since.
Well, yesterday, while gooping mousse into my hair, I found another one. It’s underneath, in a bottom layer of hair, so not easily seen. But it’s there.
Dear God. One hair, then two, then next thing you know they’re springing up all over and it’s the hairdresser’s every two weeks so you can maintain that illusion of youth while dating increasingly salt-and-peppered men. Oh for a ageless wig to pop over it all!