I can barely bring myself to say this out loud.
This morning I found my first grey hair.
After a rare night away without Beaver and Godivy. How ironic.
It was not one of those, ‘Mmmm IS that a grey hair…?’ moments where you’re not quite sure and then, phew, it turns out to be a shimmery, golden highlight.
No, it was one of those trumpet fanfare, ‘Announcing the arrival of THICK, WIRY GREY HAIR,’ moments.
I mean, where the **** did that come from? WHERE?
I wonder if this is like getting a cold when you go on holiday. You know, when you finally relax and your immune system suddenly chooses that very moment to welcome every germ that has been taking refuge and waiting for a chance to cross the border.
Or, whether it’s that devious Mother Nature’s way of making sure you never leave your kids. Not even for a minute. No, because if you dare, PING! There sprouts another one. Until you turn completely grey or learn your lesson and accept your fate to NEVER AGAIN be separated from your darling offspring.
Think about it, when do most people go grey? When their kids leave home. I’m telling you, I’m onto something. Just look at Mother Gothel with Rapunzel. She worked it out a long time ago.
Well lesson learned, Mother N. I ain’t taking that risk again. You’ve got me where you want me. At home with the kids. FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.
Still, I have no idea what to do with the you know what.
I thought about plucking it but don’t they say seven grow in its place? If that’s going to happen, I may as well just book a week’s holiday without the girls for Daddy Pig and I. The outcome will be the same but at least I’ll get a suntan. And possibly a few ‘highlights.’
Or could I colour it in with a marker pen? Brown, not black. Obviously.
Or perhaps (and I’m begging here now Mother N), there is some way I can atone for my sin and make the grey hair just disappear? Like spending extra time with the kids. Or doing things with them that I really loathe, like crafts. Yes, lots and lots of crafts.
Come on, that has to be a fair trade, right?