Gray Haired Bandit!

I'm approaching a major milestone in my life. You see, I'm getting ready to leave another decade behind and I have to admit I'm a bit nervous. Not about the increased responsibility or any of the really real "grown up" stuff but about the physical changes that take place. Now I know a lot of people (they have a few screws loose) who as they get older look forward to the impending gray hairs, the fine lines and wrinkles and all of the other "nuances" that come with aging. I on the other hand am not one of "those" individuals. I remember when I found the first gray hair, I freaked out. Not just because it was there but because it had the nerve and audacity to insert itself dead in the middle of my center part. This lone hair didn't say "let me grow somewhere less conspicuous", NO, this fool came and brought along company without asking me first. I now have seven grays taking up prime real estate on my part and they're refusing to adhere to the eviction notice I sent them . I've tried tweezing them (don't do that, they bring back up when they return), trimming them, tried different oils and conditioners all to no avail... yeah yeah yeah, I know I could color them but I don't feel like it. Why should I be inconvenienced because they don't know how to act? And besides, coloring is messy so I'll be delaying that until I can't anymore. My brush with "Old man time" made me think about one of "those" people I mentioned earlier.


It was at the hair salon and this woman who had to have been maybe fifty, give or take a few years, was proud of her head full of grays (I still think she's a few ants short of a picnic). I don't mean sparse grays either, I'm talking about the full enchilada, snow white, avalanche type grays. She said ever since she was a child, she looked forward to graying because she thought it looked beautiful. She actually rejoiced when the first one came in...what world did she come from? I looked at her dead in the eyes to see if she was serious and the crazy part was, she meant every word she said. She was so comfortable with her head of white that she owned it. She walked, strides filled with so much confidence that I had to admire her. Remembering this story I decided to get another opinion, so off I went to my mother and showed her my "foreign invaders". This lady laughed until she couldn't laugh any more. So I asked her what was so funny? Her reply was typical of a Caribbean parent, "I knew as a child something was wrong with you but now I'm convinced and have proof that you're crazy and should've been committed years ago". This woman, the one that birth me couldn't understand my "pain", she only thought of it as comical; that is until I started pointing out the grays in her head then she became real serious. Funny how that works huh? My mother's advice was a big, fat "GET OVER IT"...as if! I am not getting over it (because like I said before, I don't feel like it) instead I'm making it my business to find ways to exorcise these demons.

I cannot enter this new and "supposedly" amazing decade looking like Storm from X-Men (I'm amazed at my own rationale). And don't laugh friends...it's sooooo not funny and plus, I'm still younger than most of you, nanananaaaa. Even my mother thought it was silly to be so preoccupied with things that can't be changed or erased and I had to admit that she was absolutely right. Instead, I needed to focus on the things that can be altered and those that are tangible. With that in mind I gave myself a pat on the back for accepting that and stepping away from the vain side (yes vain, shallow or whatever you want to call it). I mean, I'm closer to accomplishing all of my goals and my dreams are being realized...what more can a girl ask for? Well she could ask for no gray hairs but that's neither here nor there. My bad, I digress...I did take one thing from the woman at the hair salon though, be comfortable in your own skin. Even if there are things about yourself that you dislike and would like to change, changing them means nothing if you aren't accepting of yourself. We weren't created to be flawless and perfect. We are meant to have cracks, chips, scars, grays (wink) and every other imperfection that makes us unique. If we didn't have these things we would be like every other person we see in passing and let's admit, how boring would that be? I've had to accept that I'm not normal and I don't fit into any molds nor should I. As much as I rant and rave about my grays, Imperfectly perfect I am and that's a fact I can happily live with. It's strange how lessons are taught in life and who we learn those lessons from isn't it?

Signed Your Conscience...