For a long time I’ve been ribbing Bayou that I won’t go grey before she will, because family genetics on my side pretty much show otherwise.
Hah. Wow, talk about eating crow.
This morning I washed my hair, and as I was smooshing product through it, my eyes drifted to my widow’s peak. There, in the July sun, was a silver hair. Silver as sterling, poking out prominently between my reddish blond hair.
Papa Greer has always tried to tell me “…it’s downhill from 25.” Well, I think I officially hit my “downhill” today.
I will say, though, if the rest of my hair were to turn this bright of silver, I’d leave it. So there’s the uh, silver lining, in all this.
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Silver, eh? Not gray?
You gets no sympathy from me. I’ve got a number of them already. Quite prominently located at my temples. But not enough for a cool silver streak.
Yup, silver. I had Bayou look at it, and she concurred. (And definitely not out of sympathy!)
I discovered gray a few years ago…and it seems to be getting worse daily. Gah. Age.