Got a new look. Unfortunately, it’s one I don’t want. I knew this day would come. The graying. I have had my hair long since I was fifteen in one form or another. Let’s just say that most of the time it has been long enough for someone to yell, “Get a haircut you damn hippie!” But lately I have been noticing some gray streaks in it. I know some women yank them out, but I can’t do that. My Grandpa was bald as could be. I may not like those hairs gray, but it’s better that they are there.
I should be thankful. You see, a person gets their hair genes from their mother. My Mother started going gray at twelve years old. I didn’t mistype that. She started getting gray at twelve. In some ways I guess it’s a miracle that I’ve make it this long without getting some gray. My evil twin sister has a lot more gray than me, but since she’s blond it’s harder to see.
Before this I always had a few non-pigmented hairs. In other words, those hair’s that were completely white like an albino person. But alas, these are not them. They are truly gray. It’s not the worst thing in the world. But it does let me know that I’m not as young as I used to be.
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