Last week I found my first grey hair. I was looking in the bathroom mirror, stuck between wondering how a splatter of toothpaste had got all the way up there and thinking I needed to tweeze my eyebrows when it caught my eye ... ... ... what is THAT?
I pulled it out and laid it on the bathroom shelf. I know that sounds a bit slummy Mummy but I had ideas of going back later and taking a photo for posterity, black humour sort of thing. We have a little silver 'first curl' pot that someone bought as a gift when we had T, perhaps they also do adult versions, inscribed with 'first granny hair'. I could curl the silvery thread up inside and in future years find it in a drawer somewhere and remember fondly a time I used to be dark.
Once the kids were in bed I went to retrieve the hair, camera in hand, but it had disappeared! I looked behind the Calpol, under the antibac hand wash and even inside the tooth mug but there was no sign. I started to think that maybe I'd dreamed the whole thing. I was 30 less than three months ago, I surely, absolutely, definitely cannot be going grey. Oh how we laughed.
I looked in the mirror again today. This time I was baring my teeth and wondering about flossing. Do you? Should I? Doesn't it hurt? Hang on ... ... what's THAT? AND THAT? AND THAT!
Now I know where my grey hair had gone. He'd gone to fetch his mates. First one, then three. Will tomorrow bring five? Or six? How long before they're all grey? To dye or no to dye? My eyebrows are still dark, am I going to end up a female Alistair Darling?
In an attempt to prevent having to think about it too much I smeared some more Colgate on the mirror. Distraction rules.