In the past week I’ve noticed an explosion of grey hairs on my head. I don’t know whether to blame it on my son’s terrible twos or my impending fortieth birthday, but whatever the cause… there they are.
I used to jazz up my mousy brown hair with blonde highlights, but I’ve been growing them out for the past year under the principle that I want to set an example of good self image to my daughter. I don’t want her to grow up feeling like she has to change herself in some way to improve herself.
And yet I can’t quite accustom myself to the fact that they are there, and taking over. At this rate I can’t keep plucking them or I’ll go bald. I don’t have a lot going for me these days…. exercise is basically a distant memory, manicures are an irregular habit at best. If I can spend two hours in a chair three times a year and give myself a little sparkle, it is probably worth the investment.
So I made an appointment for highlights next week. My daughter, after all, is only fourteen months old. There’s lots of time to set a good example.
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