GreyBeGone

Once upon a time, I found a grey hair. It would defy gravity and stick up and wave at me in the mirror, brutally resistant to hairspray, gel or superglue to keep it in check. This stubbornness was a new concept considering every other hair on my head was fine and skull clinging despite all my attempts to create that elusive 'volume'. Why was it that I would spend hours on trying to create a little height, a little air space between my brown fine hair and my scalp and yet I would also spend hours trying to reduce the air space of this one solitary grey hair?

Actually, not grey. White. brilliant white. Of course it is white, given that every other hair on my head is dark brown.

Oh, I look back on those hours of tending to that one white hair fondly. I long for that one white hair. Actually it's still there but now indistinguishable from all the other white hairs.

There comes a time when instead of trying to straighten each hair, tease it into submission or just pluck it out (we've all done it so don't give me that look), I just reach for the bottle. No not that bottle, the other bottle. The one marked permanent, with promises of soft tumbling curls and flicking silkiness just because you change it's colour.

Except those stubborn gravity defying hairs, are still stubborn and gravity defying. Just a slightly different shade of annoying.

Joining in with The Gallery and the theme of Colour at Sticky Fingers.

Old

This is me, more than 40 years ago pushing a pram.

Today, like most days, I was pushing a pram. This time with my own child in it.

It's a cliche I know but where the bloody hell did those 40-something years go? I only feel, ooh let's say, 25.

I don't feel old enough to be responsible for the welfare of three children who look to me for guidance, support, comfort and food. I may creak a bit more; I may need glasses to read small print; I may need anti-wrinkle cream; I may need caffeine in the mornings. But I don't feel as old as I am.

Is this normal? At what point do you feel your age (perhaps with the exception of immediately after my workout today)? Should I have done more, achieved more, seen more by now? Is that why I don't believe I can possibly be 40-something? Should I be more successful, with a more expensive handbag and shoes? Maybe.

Should I be happy that my children are thriving? Should I be grateful everyday for the love of my husband? Should I go out there and grab life with both hands and enjoy the ride? Should I stop worrying about my age?

Yes.


Joining in with The Gallery at Sticky Fingers.