Another Day...Another Gray...

So, today's my birthday!  It's always been my favorite day of the year, but that is because I believe your birthday (and not Christmas) is for unadulterated present whoring...and worship.  Normally, I require my husband also take the day off work to participate in my gratuitous bday adoration.

This year, the two presents I need the most will probably be presents to myself: hair dye & zit cream.  It seems that these two phenomena have started taking over my life.  I have more pimples now than I did as a teenager.  I'm 36-years-old, for Christ's sake, shouldn't I be well past this?!?  The worst part?  It's not just a blemish here or there...these things are monstrous.

It's as if the Gods of Adolescence were like, "Hey, this one got through fairly unscathed...let's make her adult life a nightmare!"  Can you recommend me a acne cream with wrinkle reduction?  I'm certain I can't be the only one and that there has to be a market for that kind of goop, right?

And the grays.  This may be the worst.  Don't mistake, I don't mind getting old.  Not at all.  [Fact is, I still imagine myself twenty-ish and pretty fabulous, but a bit more broken in and more wise]

What I do mind is my hair changing color.  Ok, ok...I know I change it enough on my own that I've recently decided to take a break to see what color my natural color even is (and to simultaneously do gray hair recon.), but this is so lame.  These hairs are not just gray, oooh, no no.  They're white.  Shock white.  And they stick out of my head in Bride of Frankenstein fashion.  They're kinky and bejiggidy and unable to be tamed or properly flat ironed...and most sit residing at the part I've kept for these past 36 years.

I've tried pulling these suckers out.  Every time I do that, the problem increases exponentially, and I've started to become a conspiracy theorist.  Alright, already...a bigger conspiracy theorist.  I think there is a direct link between my white hairs and my zits!  I yank a white hair, two pop back in it's place...followed closely by a white-headed disaster (usually strategically placed in the middle of my forehead or nose, or their favorite campsite: my chin).  I pop the zit and cover it with make up, and now I note two more white hairs.  EHHHH!

It really is only a matter of time until I'm found wandering the aisles of Wegman's, wearing an old lady plastic rain bonnet and muttering to myself about the evils of Oil of Olay.