Apparently that first gray hair was not a fluke. Just like last time, I found this one while trying to do something with my hair upon arriving to work. It’s right near my part, about a third of the way back from my forehead. A squirrelly, wiry little thing, glinting in the florescent lights of my office. Crap. And here I thought I was actually going to make it to 40 without needing to color my hair. I know it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, I’ve had these horizontal forehead wrinkles for at least, what, five years? Ten? And those certainly don’t give me a youthful, dewy glow. So what is it about the hair thing? I guess, given that my self-esteem is probably lower than that of your average junior high school girl, it was the one thing I had going for me. Okay, maybe the second thing. I do like my eyes (but only if you don’t pay attention to the dark circles/deepening wrinkles under them). Since most of my friends, both older and younger, have had some (or a lot of) gray hairs for a while, I think I felt a little smug about not having any. And now here they are. I will have to ask my stylist to do a thorough inspection of my noggin (kinda like what the school nurse used to do when looking for lice) and give me a report.
In other news, my brother and his wife are expecting again. Their firstborn, Caleb, turns one on Friday. I am so excited for them, and it’s really nice to feel genuine excitement not at all tinged with jealousy or resentment (unlike the first time they announced their pregnancy, which hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks, since they’d been married for maybe three years, tops, and my sister-in-law was all of 24 at the time and I had been trying to become a mom for nearly 5 years by then). I’m also fairly certain that I am stopping with the one (perfect) child that I have, since my second thought after being excited for them was “Suckers!” Caleb will only be 19 months old when the baby comes, still in diapers, and they’ll have to do the whole not sleeping through the night thing for yet another, what, six or more months? Better them than me, I say. The next kid I have will be the four-legged kind who pees in the yard.