I was walking around the castle in Limassol, Cyprus when I felt a familiar instinct kick in: must..find..bathroom. Ya, it was kind of like diarrhea and luckily I was near a free public bathroom. My gastrointestinal tract suffers when I’m stressed, tired, or nervous, and I happened to be nervous about meeting a special girl in a couple hours.
While the bathroom would have freaked me out before this trip, I was quite thankful that it was relatively clean, had toilet paper, was free, and not moving – all unlike this experience.
As I washed my hands I looked in the mirror. I saw something I had never seen before – a gray hair. Ever since I turned 30 last year I have been more conscious of the fact that gray hair will start to come at some point. Still, this was clearly a fluke. Maybe all the sun I had been receiving and all the swimming in the ocean damaged one of my hairs. Ya, that’s it. That’s it…
Unfortunately, two weeks later I discovered another one, this time in Hungary, on the other side of my head. [insert curse of choice]
I think the main thing going through my mind was how it could be possible to start going gray when “I’m not a grown up yet.” I guess I’ve always associated gray hair with..older people.. people who are established, stable, responsible, etc. I’m quite happy not being established and stable.
Still, gray hair doesn’t discriminate, I guess. In my family my grandpa went gray before my age, and my brother started getting gray hair when he was 19. My dad started a bit older than me, but still, I shouldn’t complain. Plus, what’s the big deal? For guys, our credibility seems to increase when we get gray hair. We look more distinguished, more trust worthy.
In reality, I could care less. I don’t even comb my hair. It doesn’t matter. Yes, it was a shock to my system to discover, but upon discovering the second one I instantly moved on and accepted it. I won’t be dying my hair. I have nothing to hide. Bring it on!