I’ve gone a relatively long time without cavities or grey hair. Sadly my long reigning glory of going without dental work came to an abrupt end this week the exact same time I spotted four ugly, wiry, nasty looking grey hairs on my head. The physical pain of an aching tooth (okay what I really have is a cracked tooth not a tooth with a hole in it) means that there is nothing to consider. My dentist is going to give me lots of drugs and make the pain go away.
The nasty grey hairs are another thing altogether. For one thing, why are they so awful and wiry? So thick, so hard, so grey. How much time can I really spend in the bathroom looking at my head, examining it in every angle of light, slyly trying to get my fingers on just the right one, my crafty determined fingers always just missing it? I remind myself that I must start carrying tweezers. I feel my eyes crossing as I do this, only dimly aware of the passing of time. Crap. Is that another one over there? I’ve only just accepted my mousey ‘caramel’ hair colour. Now this?
I think fondly of my Tante Nel, a fine looking, distinguished woman who always had grey hair. She looked great. Clearly, though, her grey hair is a different animal than mine. I know if I let mine grow in it won’t be fine, it won’t be distinguished. I’ll look like a middle-aged chia pet. Tough, stocky, more like broccoli than the more dignified asparagus.
I know I’m not going for botox, knee de-wrinkling, laser surgery, or any other kind of surgery in order to turn back the clock. Peace be with me. I’m going as gracefully as I can. But really. Do I just let this grow in or do I battle it? Blond highlights, hair rinse, Grecian formula, blue rinse. Suddenly I see why the blue haired beauties came into being.
I’m not rushing out to do anything quite yet. I’m prepared to spend time, tweezers in hand, cross-eyed removing these little monsters one at a time. Until then I will remain, forever yours mousey brown Tessa.