She gently patted the beaded moisture from the creases in
her neck, and gazed at her naked body in the mirror. She bent over the sink slightly,
holding the damp towel between her bosom. There she stared into her own eyes,
glimmering with fantasies, as the gentle sound of the water drained from the
bath tub. Clusters of bubbles still gathered on her milky white hips and
dangled from the ringlets of hair at the back of her neck. As she examined
herself, she noticed a shimmer… a glowing tress. Her insides filled with heat
and the glass began to steam from her warm breath. Could it be? No, this was
not the right place, not the right time… She fingered it softly and to her repulsion
she did confirm that it was true, it was all true. Her head began to spin as
she realized what she had just plucked from herself was…
A f*cking gray hair!!! What the hell is it doing there? I’m
not a person who has gray hair. This is ridiculous. The only reason I’m
accepting this with any dignity is because my husband has come down with the
symptoms as well. Gray hairs litter his chest and chin and 3 spots on his head (I
know, because I cut his hair).
Needless to say, I will be calling an exterminator (or my
colorist) to remedy this terrible incident. Since the hubs has a far worse case
than I do, I will blame him for the infection. By Friday, my 50 shades of gray
will be 50 shades of beautiful coffee. I'm quite sure that one day I will embrace the silver fox, but that day is not today. Today I am a VERY young mother of a 7 month old baby. Today I am everything but gray...
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