The Old Grey Mere

…is exactly what she used to be.

BUT when did all that grey hair appear? I took a close look at myself in the mirror the other day and vowed not to do that again. When I clean out my hairbrush, I’m not sure if it’s good or bad to see grey hair. If there isn’t any, I lament, “Aaaaahhhh, only the brownish hairs are falling out!” If there are too many grey hairs, I think,”Aaaaahhhh, my whole head is grey now!”

Really, I think it’s motherhood that’s done it. Nursing two daughters after surgery, worrying about the one that’s not currently underfoot, and assisting the other with planning a wedding have all contributed to the color change. I’m sure of it. It has nothing to do with being cinquante et un and everything to be with being a mere.

Y’know what else is irritating? I never can decide how I want to spell grey…or gray. So not only do I dislike visualizing myself with a full head of grey/gray hair, but then I have to visualize both spellings of the word. I might consider coloring the mop, but then I’d have a whole bunch more color words to choose from: ash, chestnut, light, lighter, lightest, medium, golden, brownish, blondeish….and having to pick something (or the same thing) every few months. And nothing called dishwater blownde, which is how I’ve always described my original, natural hair color.

Really, it’s all too much. So grey or gray it will likely become. Unless I just go with highlights so the lighter stuff looks like it was put there on purpose…

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