At 35, I have reached yet another awkward stage in life. Honestly, I thought awkward stages were behind me at this point.
This isn't my most awkward stage on record, mind you. I think that one was around age 12 or 13, when I still had braces. I was shy but didn't want to be shy. I was in that "gangly puppy" stage.
You know the one I'm talking about. Remember when that puppy starts to have the body of a grown dog, but still has the legs and mind of a puppy? That was me- clutsy, unsure of myself, embarassed by everything.
This current awkward stage I've stumbled into has to do with my hair. It's getting gray. But it's not full-blown gray, so I'm in this annoying state of limbo- do I go ahead and start coloring it? Or do I turn to my best friend Anastasia and start using her to-die-for tweazers and pluck these annoyances one by one?
And that brings me to yet another awkward stage. Maybe I don't have enough gray hair to color, but darn if I don't have too many to pluck.
Perhaps I'm fortunate. Lots of friends my age have been coloring their hair for years by now. I know my mom was hiding gray before she reached 35.
I'm kind of low-maintenance with my hair, so I want to hold off on coloring it until it's absolutely necessary. I've colored it for fun before, but I've demonstrated a clear unwillingness to keep up with it, so I end up with those unfortunate roots. Not attractive.
I keep finding a little patch of six or eight gray hairs growing in one little area. Sometimes it scares me and I immediately reach for the tweazers and yank them all out. Other times, I'm defiant and I decide to let them grow. After all, State Rep. Marty Bowen has one of those streaks in her hair and she wears it well. Stacy London rocks a great skunk stripe, too.
At the end of the day, I know going gray is unavoidable. But Lord, please let me forego the unsightly wiry gray hairs and get a head full of smooth platinum hair to eventually replace my dark brown locks!