Okay, gray hair, it was cute when you started appearing a couple of years ago. Lonely corkscrews would manifest along my part, only a inch or so long. I'd pluck you, and shrug my shoulders at my body's tiny acknowledgement that I am getting older.
But lately I've been finding more of you amidst my lovely locks of brown and red. And you, Oh Strands of Silver, you aren't little anymore. Nope, you run the full length of my eight inches of bobbed glory. I'm not sure which disturbs me more: that my hair color hormones are fading, or that I didn't notice you in your infancy.
Either way, I am fast approaching that fork in the road, the one where I decide to color over the gray or let it flow. Not sure which path I'll take, but I'm thinking that Robert Frost's advice is going to lose out on this one. Time to do some research...the only thing I know not to use is Grecian Formula.