Remember how a couple months back I found my first gray hair? Well, I totally went and pulled it out of my head, even though everyone told me not to. Mainly because I was so intrigued by its existence I wanted to study it up close and personal because WHOA! I had a gray hair! No way! I'm so mature! My hair is so wise beyond its years! I'm totally silver fox material!"
But also because I was like "get the HELL OUT OF THERE! WTF, HAIR!??!"
Of course, two months later...
... Just like the old wives' tales swore to be true:
... I found two long pube-like strands hanging out in its place like it was their JOB to dance among the strands of brown in my bangs like a couple of platinum attention hogs.
Once again, because I couldn't help myself, (ed: I don't know how people don't yank their gray hairs out. It's almost reflex-like, the need to pluck them. Kind of like finding lint on your shirt or an eyelash in your eyeball) I plucked them out, one by one and took pictures:
After studying the hairs and thinking long and hard re: what I was to do with them. I decided to give Hal the gift of reverse hair loss.
lock of love
Because that is one of the many things prematurely-gray wives are willing to do for the men they love.
At this rate, we'll be able to do a full hair transplant in about four years.
In other news, I can't wait to travel the world with my enterouge of children, nannies and Louis Vuitton luggage. In the meantime? We're all about stained duffel bags and co-sleeping which is also pretty fabulous, I must say.