You started creeping up on me at 20. There was only a few of you then. When friends caught sight of your strands on the back of my head, they’d make fun and said I needed to stop stressing out so much. But it wasn’t stress that triggered your outgrowth (although I had enough stress during that time), it was genetics. I couldn’t fight my hereditary destiny. My mother and father both were 50 percent gray by the time they turned 40, and I can only imagine where they had been at my age.
It seemed that for a few years, you ten strands of gray hair maintained your presence. But then I turned 28, and it seemed that you made the decision to attack full force. I wouldn’t have minded as much if you decided to stay away from my crown but it was quite obvious that was your favorite part . All along my edges, you sprouted, and aged me beyond my years.
Like my mother, I’d go on to fight the good fight of keeping you concealed. But you are a stubborn bunch. Just when I thought I could have you easily covered under semi-permanents, you decided to prove the theory of hair growth right; in other words, you grew fast and now I truly do believe that hair grows an inch a month. Because of your over-zealousness, my hair regiments became more complicated and my salon appointments became more expensive.
You had pretty much become a demanding part of my life. Now, I had to put an extra $20 per month towards semi-permanent color add-ons I’d get along with my usual treatment at the salon. Earlier on, I thought I could control you myself but I lost too much time and one too many nice shirts in the process of coloring.
I’ve looked up ways to fight grays with nutrition (when you’re looking for solutions, a myriad of natural herbs will pop up in your google searches) and have tried a few to no avail. I’ve also tried plucking you along my hairline but that process always gives me goosebumps. For the meantime, I’ve decided to accept your presence in my life. Understandably, you’re not the worst thing that could’ve happened to my hair. I’m thankful for the fact that I don’t suffer from thinning hair or random baldness, so although I know you’re a mild problem; I just wish you would slow your rapid takeover of my head. At the very least, can you wait til I turn 40 to expand your holdings? Please? Pretty please?
More on Madame Noire!
- Can We Stop the Black Male Bashing…At Least on Father’s Day?
- Being Selfish or Being Sensible? What’s So Wrong With Not Wanting To Have Children?
- Looking Within: Am I A Match For The Ideal Man I Am Praying For?
- OOoo Girl, No! 6 Hair Mistakes You Need Not Make
- Don’t Be His Fool, or His Doormat: Excuses Women Need to Stop Making For Men
- In Summer Fashion, White Is The New Black: 6 White Pieces for Your Wardrobe
- You Could’ve Kept That: 9 Movie Remakes and Sequels That Shouldn’t Have Seen the Light of Day
