Thursday, 13 February 2014
Last week, I hid the silver. And no, I didn’t bury it in the backyard because the Yankees are coming.
I was in a hair salon undergoing hair color enhancement. Okay, in everyday vernacular, I was trying to become…let’s just say, less granny looking with a dye job. I know that information just lowered your blood pressure because you laughed a good ten minutes. Okay, perhaps you grinned only in the dark recesses of your mind.
And yes, I was only trying to cover up the silver because the hoary head part of me doesn’t yet want to look ancient. Many of us aren’t as lucky as some and tend to begin the graying process early—like fourteen. Finding a silver hair as a young teen was traumatizing. And it’s true that if one silver hair is plucked out, two will grow back to replace it, so later in life I made the executive decision to cover every last one of them before they took over the free world.
Read More Here: Still Processing