Getting the Grays

Since having my third child, I’ve gradually started getting gray hair (three actually). Instead of freaking out and viewing them as a negative sign of my age, I welcomed them and named them after my three kids. I felt it was a kind of rite of passage into true motherhood. No doubt about it, I was really an adult now! I showed them to my husband and he proceeded to ask me, “are you going to pull them out?” In his defense, I must add that he asked this not to be mean, but because one of the hairs had high aspirations and was reaching straight up for the sky. It refused to lie down, no matter what I did to it. You go girl! I replied to my husband, “Heck no, she’s just the first of many guests and I suspect it’s going to be a large party. I want to see where’s it’s going to lead!” I was excited about my new hairs. Afterall, my grandmother had beautiful white hair. Everyone always thought she looked majestic. Maybe I could go from looking like a sloppy housewife to a regal sophisticate. But what I didn’t expect was the congregation that would soon be forming on my chin! Where did that come from? Was this the beginning of menopause? I’m only 34 years old! Are my hormones off balance? Maybe I’m ill! Was I actually born a man and I’m just now realizing it? As all of these random thoughts buzzed through my brain, I started to panic. I plucked the lone hair, as it was really only one little hair, and tried not to think about it anymore. But it insisted on returning week after week. I sprinkled holy water on it, left over from my son’s baptism, and told it to “go into the light”. “It’s not welcome here!” At my next gynecological appointment I ask my doctor to have my hormones checked because I’m obviously excessively hairy. She asks me what I’m referring to exactly and I point to my one chin hair. After she’s done laughing, she informs me that I have no idea how hairy women can really be and that it’s completely normal. She then adds that I can probably expect it to get worse as I age, particularly after menopause. It gets worse?! Holy crap! I go home, feeling defeated, and vow that I’m going to spread this story around because apparently it’s just one more example of the secrets that women keep to themselves, in order to make all other women feel isolated and repulsive. I’m happy to report that the lone hair has not yet invited friends, but if they do come, I’m just going to braid them and wear them with pride. Apparently, women have body hair. Get used to it!