That moment when you get home from the dentist, the numbness has worn off and you’re trying to decide if the new crown is right or if it’s maybe a little too high? Knowing you can’t go back now, you’re looking at your inbox and then your calendar for the rest of the week, wondering how you got so old to have such worries and mainly when it will be 5, because today you’re really looking forward to 5.
Unless it’s a Bible, I love when someone wants to share a favorite book with me. Today it was a neighbor I don’t know very well who ran to get me the book Sideways by Rex Pickett. We’d been talking in his driveway about my recent weekend in wine country—how I pitched a tent with a bunch of people at our friend’s vineyard…a winery in the making. When I admitted to him how little I knew about wine, he insisted on running into his house to grab the book for me. How sweet of him, right? When he handed it to me though he was almost reluctant, like he suddenly had second thoughts. He looked at me more closely and said in a questioning voice “I think you’re old enough for the content” . I laughed and reassured him, although I hadn’t seen the movie yet, I was pretty sure I could handle the book’s content, whatever it is. Oh I can’t wait to find out what on earth I’m old enough to read!
Flashback to Prom Night
As he was changing my tire, he looked up at me smiling and shared a story about the first time he ever changed one. It was prom night, one of those super hot nights in June in the Midwest. The kind that makes you sticky. He was wearing a white tux and borrowed his dad’s car to pick up the girl he really loved, when his tire blew. “Yeah” he laughed, shaking his head “I fixed the flat…and the white tux survived the ordeal. But, at the end of the night, the girl let me know she didn’t feel the same way”. Suddenly he looked kinda sad, as if this rejection were happening all over again, 50 years later. I wondered (to myself) where is this girl now? What ever happened to her? I couldn’t help thinking I bet she’s wishing she had him now. He is a total keeper, sitting here on the curb fixing my flat because he wanted to, because he wasn’t doing anything much. “I’m just out walking my dogs” he said when he stopped and offered to fix it.
I’m testing the theory that if you pull one grey hair, three will grow back in its place. I hope it’s false because I just spent 20 minutes pulling grey hairs from my head.
Let’s face it, turning 40 along with the inevitable gray hairs, more cellulite, sagging boobs, wrinkles, bad sleep, back pain, teeth issues… sucks. I wonder if my best friend from childhood is turning grey too? She lives too far away now to discretely check.
It wasn’t until my hair stylist laughed when I suggested I was “starting” to get grey hairs… “Starting?!” he laughed and proceeded to cut 5 long ones and let them drop on the black cape. “It’s just you can’t see them because of your natural color.” OK. I get it. Denial. I’m in denial.
I was thinking I could escape the greying shit. Never mind all my friends have grey hair & my ex-husband has grey hair. I just thought I didn’t … but upon closer inspection they are here… and they’re here in numbers!
Don’t get me wrong—grey hair can be lovely… on OTHER women and men… distinguished and sexy … just not me … not yet. You need to be comfortable in your skin to properly sport grey hair. You need to be wise and settled….like my grandmother was. You know, like Jane Goodall… not someone who is still confused about what she wants to be when she grows up.