16 December 2015

Mommy Confessions: I Found My First Gray Hair

So first off, WTF. Seriously body, WTF?

I’m not even 40 yet. Almost, but no. No, no, no. This shouldn’t be happening. You owe me a really great explanation for this shit. One minute, I’m a care-free, fully brunette babe and the next minute – BAM!


And we’re not even talking about a few little sprigs here and there, no. That would have been too easy. We’re talking long, fully formed gray grandma hairs. Finding gray hairs is like having your life flash right before your eyes: Old, crazy cat lady complaining about my arthritis and bursitis.

Okay, so it’s not that bad (yet) but finding out I had a gray hair was a shock to my system. It probably had more to do with the fact that Michael found it first. We were walking down the driveway and out of the middle of nowhere he yells, “Oh my God! Hold still!” while digging through my hair like a capuchin monkey. I think what got me more was the look of excitement and relief on his face as if to say, “Thank God, I’m no longer alone!” It was almost like he found a pot of fucking gold sitting right on top of my skull and couldn’t wait to show me.

“YOU HAVE A GRAY HAIR,” he screams as he plucks and dangles the proof of my far-gone youth in my face.

There it was, right in front of my face. I glanced over to look at Michael and in an instant, his expression turned from enthusiastic to that universally recognized look of pity. You know the face. It’s the face we give to dogs with only three legs or when a bride gets left at the altar but in usual Courtney form, I brushed it off. I’m 39 and fucking fabulous!

But honestly, I didn’t brush it off. It’s been eating away at me ever since.

…I bet that’s just a very blonde hair.
…But I’m a brunette. I don’t have blonde hair.
…It looks really, really gray. Maybe I should keep plucking?
…Wait, don’t pluck! A million more will grow back in its place.
…What am I so worried about? Lots of people have gray hair!
…Like grandmas.

I’m going to admit that I wasn’t prepared for this. I figured I had at least another decade to go before I had to start shopping for hair color and accept old lady jokes. I could lie and offer those fake, bullshit platitudes we always hear like, “Growing old is a privilege not everyone gets” or “Embrace those wrinkles and gray hairs. They’ve made you who you are.”

Fuck that.

I mean, who really believes that shit? Yes, I’m thankful for every day that the good Lord allows me to wake up but what woman really accepts gray hair as a sign of feeling thankful for another day on Earth?

Lies. All lies.

So for now, I’m going to live in blissful ignorance. Besides, the dog has really gray hair. I’m sure it was his.

Courtney @ Shiraz In My Sippy Cup
Courtney @ Shiraz In My Sippy Cup

Courtney is a published author, mom, taco enthusiast, and a Star Wars and Tennessee Volunteers fanatic. She's never met a piece of sushi she didn’t like and enjoys an amazing glass of wine and a great cut of meat. You can read more of her wine-induced, sleep-deprived adventures on The Huffington Post and Scary Mommy.

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