Crickity Crackity

I turn thirty this year.

30

And I guess I feel a little like Walter Donovan..."WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME???!!!"

Sigh...I am assuming though, that it won't happen quite that fast. You never know, though.

I was standing in the bathroom fidgeting with my hair and I saw something shiny amidst my dark hair (Which Grandma apparently finds odd. Everytime I see her she says, "Everytime I look up at you, I am so surprised to see dark hair..." like it's wrong or something. Sheesh. I can't keep bleaching my hair, Gigi.)...I inched closer...maybe I was going uber blond?

Uh oh...

A wee little white hair. I had to pull it out to make sure...

Yup.

It was just one, right? No problem. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe I killed it.

You know the mythological creature, the Hydra? You know how poor little Hercules kept chopping its heads off and more appeared?

Yeah...My little white intruder came back. With friends. I can't pull them ALL out. That would give me a giant bald spot on one side of my head. And I don't want to encourage anymore to spring up.

I suppose I have sort of cursed myself by dubbing myself "Shydandelion." I'm doomed to have a head full of whiteness. I just hope it doesn't all fall out with a gust of wind.