Oh Holy God, I have grey hair. There is no way to sugar coat this frightening yet inevitable turn of events. So far, there has only been one rogue sprouting, wiry white fleck, but to be sure, more are coming. I completely ignored every old wives tale and superstition about 7 replacing 1 and plucked that sucker out seconds after I saw it.
I have vivid recollections of dying my mom's hair in the bathroom when she didn't want to be bothered with the salon, or felt it wasn't worth the expense that month. I have to add the caveat here, that as a granola woman who felt it misogynistic to shave her legs, she barely felt it necessary to do to begin with and mainly did so (I think) to appease me (though she always liked it afterwards).
If genetics have anything to say about things (and they will- we looked a lot alike) I have lots of white, unruly hair coming to me, particularly in the top and front. I'm sure wherever she is, she's laughing heartily at my current misfortune.
I've done the calculation, and I think I have a safe countdown of at least a couple of years before I can no longer pluck out random hairs and the non-stop coloring begins. Unfortunately for my hair follicles, which are healthy now after I stopped coloring over a year ago, I don't think I will wait that long. And so begins the death sentence...
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