Friday, March 11, 2011


When I was in labor with Milo, Chris took that very opportune time to let me know he just noticed a gray hair on my head. That was roughly two years ago and thinking about gray hairs hasn't been high on the priority list, but it seems having a toddler and turning 33 has caused a few more to sprout. Around Christmas I noticed a gray which I tried to cut out with nail scissors. You can guess how well that turned out. At my last hair appointment, my sweet stylist plucked two wiry, coarse gray hairs out of my scalp. I tipped her well and tried to ignore her hints about coming in for color.

I haven't colored my hair for almost five years, when I finally said goodbye to the party girl blond highlights and back to my natural dark self. I don't want to do all over cover now and I'm simply too lazy to keep up with a highlight regime. Eventually, I'll probably be forced to choose a color option, but in the meantime I'll keep the nail scissors close and hope more grays don't surface.


The color of the sky in Columbus in early March is a particular gray. It's not the hopeless gray of January or the seemingly never ending gray of February. Instead it is the gray that holds promise of change. The promise of a growing season and longer days ahead.

1 comment:

Swistle said...

At each appointment I say anxiously to my stylist, "Any greys yet??" My hair is "dishwater" (what an unpleasant name for a haircolor!) so I might not notice until they've TAKEN OVER.