No, it couldn't be. It was just one of my really blonde ones, right? My husband laughed, mockery and vengeance mixed together. I concentrated on the glare beaming off his chrome dome.
That afternoon I had a hair appointment. We chatted about all the normal things: kids, school the holidays...but the whole time I was thinking, "Can she see it? Was it real? Did he really find one?"
"So my husband thinks he found a white hair. Do you see any?"
Oh, yes, she saw one...then several more. But I was not to worry. I was lucky. It would blend in, somewhat, with my blonde hues. Besides, I was going straight from blonde to white, no graying for me. I smiled, "Yeah, that's better than gray. White is pretty." Secretly I was devastated. My plan was to not see gray or white hair until at least 40. I had always remained young looking, if only in my mind. Surely my hair would cooperate.
When I first started teaching middle school I would intentionally introduce myself to the bus drivers on our field trips so that they wouldn't be wondering where the teacher was.
I was a late bloomer growing up, the shortest in my sixth-grade class. I liked my role of being the youngest. I liked looking youthful. I liked being carded: the best compliment.
My dreams and hopes of retaining my youth were dashed as I sat in that beautician's chair. It was happening. My body was growing older, not younger. And it is not just my hair. I also have this little item dubbed the "muffin top." I keep thinking and hoping it'll go away, but after three babies I think it might become a permanent feature.
Luckily I still feel beautiful...actually more beautiful than I've ever felt before. This says much about my husband.
Still, I find myself moving further and further away from the "ideal" age of beauty and it stings a bit. Yet I would never want to go back. I'm learning to love my new, wider hips; my skin that isn't quite youthful as it once was; and maybe soon I'll even begin to anticipate the new white hairs mixed in with my blonde locks of youth.
I don't really want to fight it. I want to be fully what I am, and for now it is a mom who is not only adored by my husband, but my three little boys. I wouldn't change that for any age.
8 comments:
I am fighting it with all that I have.
I have had grays sorry scratch that...gleaming strands of silver, in my hair since I was 20.
I have dark brown hair!
Be so thankful for the blond.
Lotsa white and silver here, but we "disguise" it with blonde every few months.
In your opinion what is the ideal age of beauty? 22, 26, 27 ?
Ah, Rebekah, you are more beautiful than ever before. Really & truly. Way to embrace your white hair, just as you have the mini-van. Such is life. BTW, I'm just hiding mine (even from myself)
I find a snow white hair every once in a while in my nearly black tresses. (Used a fancy word there to avoid saying hair twice in the same sentence!)
I also grow a really ridiculous dark chest hair right out of the middle of my collar bones about every three years.
Beauty has always been a constant struggle.
Beautiful post. And I agree...we are far better off embracing it. I stopped coloring my hair a couple years ago and struggled a bit when I found some gray ones....but I am ok with it. Really and truly. My legacy is in my family.....not in my waist size. (though if it WERE in my waist size, my legacy is larger than it was before the kids!)
Keep it up!
OK, anyone good with translations? I just used a translation site and figure out that last comment is in Chinese and says:
Grid main blog content really rich--look very happy
OK, so what do you think that fully means? See, I'm not sure those translation things really work.
Post a Comment