On a regular day, fixing my hair is a quick little routine that usually involves a hair clip and a brush. If I'm going somewhere, I'll put in a little more effort, but yesterday was a quiet day, a hair-in-the-clip sort of day. If only I had known what was to await me . . .
As usual, I brushed my hair. As usual, I gathered up the front and sides, twisted them and pinned them in place with a clip. And there it was. Right in front.
My first white hair.
I looked at it very carefully. No, it wasn't a blonde highlight -- it was much too light. I yanked it out and held it to the light. Then to my bedroom light. Then to the sunlight. No matter how I looked at it, the hair was white.
You might say, "Oh, it was just a matter of time." Hello? I'm 32! I wasn't expecting this for ten more years!
I saved the hair and tucked it into my glasses case. I showed it to my husband. He was no help -- he went gray at 17.
At least I have two consolations. First is that my hair was a pretty, snowy white, not a yellow-white or a mucky gray. Second, I live close to Wal-mart and hair coloring is very inexpensive these days . . .