I need to handle this with a little delicacy. A sense of decorum. I need to say it gently because otherwise I might freak out.
It’s possible that I may have already freaked out… but just a little.
How am I going to say this? What’s the best way to handle the situation we’ve found ourselves in? I say we… this really doesn’t concern you. It’s not your problem, it’s mine. You see babies, at the perfectly lovely age of 32 (I really am enjoying my 30s so far, no complaints from me at all) I’ve found a gray hair.
No big deal, I know I know. Plus my gorgeous husband as a full head of white and gray hair, granted he is 13 years older than I am, but I love his hair. If only I could get him to stop dying it so I could see it.
But this is not about him and his gray hair. This is about me and my gray hair. The one I found today. When I was in the bathroom. Looking down. You know what I’m saying, right?
Right. That’s where I found it.