This past weekend was meant to be one in which I caught up on a lot of things that need catching. It seems like I never have time for this owing to the volume of activity with which I've filled my life. I suppose I'm grateful to have this be an option... I could be attending Little League games or shuttling someone around from class to class instead of reclining in a warm, salty tub, Malbec in hand, John Mayer piping over the Bose. [Editor's note: January has never taken a bath while sipping good Argentinian wine. She has however showered while Mr. Mayer crooned about her Wonderland.]
The other night I was getting ready to go to a party, John Mayer on the stereo, and was heartily complimenting myself on how good I looked when I stopped mid-swoon and gasped: there was a gray hair, a damn gray hair, wiry and poking its ugly head out from under its beautiful brunette neighbors. Not the first such occurrence, I reluctantly admit, but it's crushing every time. Suddenly I went from hot mama ready for action to cute mom ready for bed - and I don't have kids! I've never been so easily handed a loss by such a tiny, earth-toned color. Even beige could have kicked my ass after finding that hair.
There was a time in my 20's when I'd get ready to go out at night with hyper anticipation. Well, the cups of coffee I would down while I was drying my hair probably had something to do with the hyper. I don't even drink coffee anymore. I gave up caffeine. God, when did I turn into my parents? Anyway, I laid down on my bed for a short while and assessed the situation. I wasn't tired, just defeated. Other than that awful hair, I looked pretty good. And with my eyes closed I barely noticed any lines around them. I got up, finished my makeup and headed out in my flapper dress to the party, a roaring 20's costume fete. I may not be young anymore but who says I need to whimper? I'm all about my roaring 30's.
The other night I was getting ready to go to a party, John Mayer on the stereo, and was heartily complimenting myself on how good I looked when I stopped mid-swoon and gasped: there was a gray hair, a damn gray hair, wiry and poking its ugly head out from under its beautiful brunette neighbors. Not the first such occurrence, I reluctantly admit, but it's crushing every time. Suddenly I went from hot mama ready for action to cute mom ready for bed - and I don't have kids! I've never been so easily handed a loss by such a tiny, earth-toned color. Even beige could have kicked my ass after finding that hair.
There was a time in my 20's when I'd get ready to go out at night with hyper anticipation. Well, the cups of coffee I would down while I was drying my hair probably had something to do with the hyper. I don't even drink coffee anymore. I gave up caffeine. God, when did I turn into my parents? Anyway, I laid down on my bed for a short while and assessed the situation. I wasn't tired, just defeated. Other than that awful hair, I looked pretty good. And with my eyes closed I barely noticed any lines around them. I got up, finished my makeup and headed out in my flapper dress to the party, a roaring 20's costume fete. I may not be young anymore but who says I need to whimper? I'm all about my roaring 30's.
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