Going, Going, Gray

God hates me.  How else can I explain this going gray business?  It’s happening all over my body.  My pubic hair is going gray.  I’m noticing stray grays in my eyebrows.  I swear, my skin is going gray, too.  Isn’t gray the color of rats?  I am particularly not fond of rats, and He is turning me into one—I’m sure I noticed a whisker the other day.  Guess what color it was?  I’m telling you, God has it in for me.  Recently I looked up at the sky, and it was slate gray, for Pete’s sake!  I’m taking it personally.  On an otherwise fresh Tuesday morning not long ago, I noticed these headlines on the front page of the Los Angeles Times Business section: 

“DHL will slash operations” (to the tune of 9,500 jobs)
“Picture gets fuzzy for Circuit City” (chain files for Chapter 11)
“GM shares plunge on forecast they could soon be worthless”

DHL, Circuit City and GM all in one day?? Now, what do you suppose that inspired my hair to do?  That’s right, it’s all-out war on me.

When I decided awhile back to let it all hang out and invite Gray and Grace to make their entrance, people kept asking if I was tired, or even worse, if I was sick? In order to push back, I’m boycotting all things gray.  I threw out my gray yoga pants; that gray cat I was considering—forget about it; and, no more silver jewelry—it’s just too close to gray.  If anybody needed proof that God is right wing, seek no more: while I wasn’t looking, He got me to buy a gray car under the pretext that they really, really hide dirt!  If that isn’t a right wing conspiracy, what is?  Seriously, I think my eyes are turning gray.

So, here’s what I’m going to do:  I have dyed my crown of gray platinum blonde.  Yes, I am the very same person who wrote that wanting to dye my hair platinum was once sign of a midlife crisis.  ["What Midlife Crisis?"] But this ain’t no midlife crisis.  This is strategy, honey.  The inch of hair that surrounds my face is now platinum blonde, with gray coming in at Superman speed—except that, for some reason, I don’t notice it as much.  (Maybe everyone else does, but who gives a damn?  I’m the one that counts.)  The master plan is to get to a point where I will have one inch of gray surrounding my face.  I call it the two-tone strategy.  I’ll continue dying the rest of it light brown until I get good and used to the gray, and then I’ll consider my next step.  I recently rented a film in which Richard Gere sported (obviously-dyed) brown hair, and I gasped to myself, Wow, he looks much better with his gray hair.

Listen here, God.  I’m letting you know that you win, as always.  I surrender.  And, if you would just stop with the whiskers, I won’t take it personally.

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