Going Gray (Un)gracefully

Personally, I think thirty-four is too young to start going gray. Unfortunately, the biochemical pigmentation on my scalp does not share this opinion.

I have held off on dying my hair, reluctant to introduce unnecessary chemicals into my system. Or perhaps I have refrained for reasons of vanity, plagued by distant memories of my hair taking on an orange-ish tint when I attempted to dye it once in college. Besides, I am kind of partial to my natural hair color, despite those pesky gray hairs that have appeared in recent years.

To make matters worse, my gray hairs are shorter because when they first started showing up, I plucked them. Now those wiry little suckers stick straight up as though I have a chronic static electricity disorder.

My husband, Dan, enjoys tormenting me about my new hair follicle additions.

“I only see them when I’m standing right over the top of your head," he says to me. "If you weren’t so short, I wouldn't even be able to see them.”

One afternoon, I was having issues with our computer, and (as is my custom) I was blaming Dan, Software Engineer Extraordinaire, for all of the technological problems in the world.

“Watch out. You’re giving yourself more gray hair,” he said, peering at the top of my head.

“You can't possibly see them. I covered them with mascara," I retorted, proud of the quick remedy I had just read in a magazine.

“You didn't cover that one, or that one, or that one, or that one . . .”

Then I chased him around the house, snapping him with a kitchen towel while he laughed in hysteria. He had truly amused himself.

Later that evening, Dan touched the top of my head and said, “Gross. You hair is stiff. It feels like you have mascara in it."

Then he broke out into belly-bouncing laughter again.

Dan caught me checking my hair - specifically the gray hairs protruding from my scalp - in the car mirror one weekend. He snickered.

When I glared at him, he said quickly, “This is a funny song, huh?”

“It's about the death of his father.”

"Oh . . ." Dan pursed his lips sheepishly.

I remember admiring a family friend's newly highlighted hair at a picnic one summer.

"Once I started going gray, I realized it was easier to go light rather than try to stay dark," she told me.

I didn't give much thought to her hair color philosophy until recently. That is probably the reason my husband's hair still seems to so closely resemble his natural color - blond hair hides gray better than brown.

Just you wait, Dan. Your day is coming. Blond doesn't trump gray forever. Of course, as a result of our gender-biased society, you will simply be referred to as a "gracefully aging, distinguished older gentleman."