Yes, I realize the title of this is obnoxious. No, I could not help myself. Yes, I am a child. No, I’m not drinking right now it’s 7:30am so all I have is coffee. No, there is no whiskey in my coffee.
It has come to my attention recently that I am getting older. I realize this shouldn’t be some sort of magical revelation. People age, it’s kind of what we do. For me it didn’t really hit home that I was getting older until after I had the second baby. The first child was an avalanche of body differences mostly centered around baby weight, stretch marks, and things just not being where I left them. The second child has been a different matter all together.
After Kaitlyn all of me just feels more fragile and even more foreign than it did after Nathan. My bad shoulder that I hurt in my early 20s will now ache for no reason, when before it would only hurt when it rained. My knees crack when I walk up the stairs. My back hurts in the morning if I sleep the wrong way. Some of those physical differences are related to me jumping back into Judo with two feet but others were there before I added exercise back in.
The physical aches and pains are one thing but by far the most offensive reminder of the fact that I am A) aging and B) have two children both at difficult ages, are the gray hairs. It seems like when I brought Kaitlyn home from the hospital I also brought a few straggling gray hairs with me. At the time I didn’t think much of those strangers on top of my head. They seemed like guests who would keep me company while I was up all night with a wakeful child. Instead they turned out to be the kind of guests you can never get out of your house. Then they add insult to injury by inviting all their friends over and throwing a kegger. God, those gray hairs are assholes.
The hairs seem to multiply daily and I’m at the point where I can’t quite decide if I want to start dying my hair again or if I want to let it go and rock the gray. On one hand I’m not even 30 yet so I feel almost obligated to dye away the offending locks. On the other hand I feel like I’ve earned those gray hairs. Each one represents a time when I’ve survived whatever evil the world has thrown at me be it job bullshit, sleep regressions, terrible twos, arguments with my husband. I almost don’t want to erase the daily reminders that I can deal with anything. These stupid little gray hairs are my war scars.
Have any of you out there gone gray early? Did you dye it away and try to forget or did you rock the gray and flip the bird to anyone who gave you shit about it? I’m also super curious if any of the men out there who went gray early colored their hair. What say you Internet? Tell me your tales of gray.