The Undiscovered Country

Going Gray

A few days I studied my hair in the mirror. I always considered it one of my better features. It's not thick, but it has enough body most people think it is. I also have just enough curl, not matter if it's long or short, I can step out of the shower, run a brush through it, and I'm golden.

It's also growing shinier almost every day with strands losing their color.

And yet I'm still pleased.

As strange as it might sound to some of you, I look forward to going gray. It's because I have my grandmother's hair color, and her shiny, silver hair was always her most beautiful feature.

Maybe it's because age is catching up with me, but I appreciate gray hair on everyone.

It shows not only a person's age, but can also be a sign of wisdom (although not always), but it also shows that person has lived, endured both trials and triumphs, and can teach this young (or so I like to think of myself) woman a thing or two.

I feel the same way about scars, no matter how deforming. To me they show strength, and endurance; it's a neon sign that says, "I survived."

Scars are beautiful. Wrinkles are beautiful. Gray hair is beautiful.

Cellulite? Not so much (for which I have aplenty).