If you have ever met or seen a picture of my Momma, you'll know that she has beautiful grey hair. If you have ever met or seen a picture of my Dad, you'll know that he, too, has a very nice head of grey hair.
Both of them started greying early in life though I'm not sure of the exact age. My Dad's happened more slowly and my Momma can't remember because as soon as she saw one grey hair, she started coloring it and didn't stop until a few years ago.
Now if you look at my siblings you might not see the grey hairs immediately but upon closer inspection you will see that we all have quite a few. Whitney and Laurel are both serial grey hair pluckers (quite often under an open sunroof with the sun shining on their head while looking in the rear-view mirror). Josh has embraced his salt-n-pepper hair and it totally fits him because, well, he's him.
I lie somewhere in between them all. I don't pluck the grey hairs but I also don't fully embrace them and let them shine for the whole world to see. There are a few things working in my favor. My grey hairs mostly grow in patches that are well-hidden under the rest of my hair and my hair is a lighter brown with natural blond-ish highlights so that when the greys shine through, they often blend in.
Part of me really wants to embrace the grey hairs. I think they show that you have been through a lot in your life. I think they are a natural part of growing older. I want to age gracefully and not fight the inevitable.
Then the other part of me looks at Andrew. Yes, he has a few more greys shining through these days thanks to med school but he still looks like he is a teenager (at best he looks 20 or 21). This comes with its own difficulty for him but, seriously, think about me here.
I have always looked older than I am. When I was 12, I looked more like 15 and when I was 18, I looked 21. My grey hairs are becoming harder to hide and, lets face it, we're all looking older (except for Andrew of course). How in the world am I supposed to embrace my grey and feel confident in my appearance when I have the fountain of youth always standing beside me? And, bless his heart, he wishes he looked older and is always excited when a new grey hair shines though but at the end of the day, people think I'm robbing the cradle.
The big dilemma hasn't hit head on yet but it's coming and, as you know, I'm a planner. What in the hell am I going to do when the grey becomes more dominant and I'm still standing beside my eternally youthful husband? Do I embrace it? Stand with my head held high knowing that he is older than me and that I'm beautiful no matter what? Do I dye my hair or hang my head and stay out of pictures? What do I do?
I've tried dying my hair and I don't like it. It is too much maintenance, costs a lot to be done right and the color never stays long enough to enjoy because it always fades. But is it worth it when my husband is smokin' hot and I want to keep up with that?
I don't know what I'm going to do when that time comes. For now, I'm going to try and recognize each grey hair as proof of another day, month or year of a well-lived life. We'll deal with the dye later.