Thursday, February 03, 2011

can I get an intervention?

A little over three and a half years ago, a milestone was reached in my life, and it was so monumental (and not in a good way) that I felt compelled to blog about it (if only to use humor to mask my true feelings). It involved a gray hair, a large dose of feeling old, and a public shaming. (Not for me, at least not intentionally. For the hair, you see.  Oh, I don't know, it seemed funny at the time.)  You can check out my lamentations here, if you'd like.

Unfortunately, my efforts to frighten my other hairs into submission was to no avail. The part in my hair has become fertile ground for a whole crop of blasted gray hairs, and I've fallen into a surprisingly difficult-to-break habit. Each night when I go into the bathroom to take out my contacts and force myself to floss, I'm drawn to the mirror like a magnet. I get close enough to inspect my scalp for new shiny silver hairs, and I involuntarily reach for the always-nearby tweezers.

Yes, I'm plucking my gray hairs, and I don't know how to stop.

It didn't stop with that first one, the one that suffered the humiliation of being put on display for all to see and mock. I've continued to pull them, at first just because one or two looked plain silly among all the other perfectly happy brown hairs. But then it became somewhat mesmerizing, and I found myself pulling three or four at a time. By this point, I'm fearful that some TLC executive is going to find out and pitch some new reality show which will feature me in my bathroom, tweezers in hand and head all close to the mirror while some voice-over explains the obsessive nature of Gray Hair Pluckers.

Help me.

I can't do the obvious thing and simply get rid of the tweezers, because in all other aspects, those little metal guys are my best friend. The Spanish heritage in my family may not have blessed me with olive toned skin or mad Flamenco dancing skillz, but it certainly did pass down an abundance of little facial hairs in unacceptable places. The tweezers must always be at the ready. (I even have a 'to go' pair in my bag, just in case a new hair is discovered while away from the house. You can never be too prepared, that's my motto.)

makers of the best slanted tweezers ever.  if you're into this kind of thing.

I've got to somehow pull together the strength to avoid the temptation to pluck "just one more" before I end up having to leave my house with empty patches on my head. I've got to learn to either own my gray hair or get my butt to the CVS.

Which do you think it's going to be?

Ready to look more like my red-headed daughter any day now,