As is inevitable, time marches on. My baby just turned seven. This past year marked my tenth wedding anniversary. I have not been asked for id at the liquor store in two years. (Sigh). And, although I still like to feel like I am in the prime of youth, my body regularly reminds me that I am hopelessly deluding myself.
Can't run the way I used to. Nope, if my performance on my baseball team is any indication. Every time I have to run the bases ankles twist and muscles scream. There are 60 year olds on my team that could outrun me. In fact, if I ever have to, "run for my life", I will be dead in 2 seconds.
Can't loose weight the way I used to. Eat salad for a week, do some sit ups and I used to be on my way to a flat tummy. Now, eat salad for a week, train 3 days a week, chase after dogs and children, run 50 errands, eat a cheeseburger. No flat tummy. Efing metabolism.
Can't even sleep the way I used to. No more passing out and waking up refreshed 12 hours later. Oh no! Now, if I can even get to sleep, I will be woken up at least twice by the need to pee and will spend the rest of the night thrashing around in dreamland, only to wake up more exhausted than when I went to bed.
There are two things about me though, that have consistently held back the relentless march of time. Two things that have never betrayed my true age and have kept me feeling young all these long years. My face and my hair. I am an Arbonne gal and it shows. I have always taken care of my skin and hair, knowing, that when I really needed them, they would be there for me, tricking people into believing I was 30 forever. It now seems, however, that I have been betrayed.
This past week on my cottage vacation with friends, time caught up with me. While me and my good gal pals sat around discussing the passage of time, the subject of gray hair came up. I could see it here and there in my friends hair. Little gray streaks shining out through the brown. Tsk, tsk, better call the colourist I thought. I may have chimed in with, " I don't have any gray hair yet. Gee I'm so lucky". When one friends cast a sideways glance at my head and said, "I see a gray hair. Right there." (point, point).
(Me) "Shut up. There is no gray hair on my head".
(Nadine) "Yes there is. It's right there. It's white".
(Me) "You're full of crap. If there was a white hair on my head, I think I'd know!"
(Nadine) "Oooooookkaaaaaaayyyyyy".
(Me) "I'm going to check".
I made some seriously quick time to the bathroom. The ball team would have been proud. I flicked on the lights and checked my hair VERY carefully. Nothing. Not one thing. Whew! I knew it couldn't be true.
(Me) "Nadine, you're full of crap. There are now gray hairs on my head."
(Nadine) "Ok Michelle. If that's what you want to believe, you go ahead".
(Me) "If you see a gray hair on my head, prove it. Pull it out".
(Nadine) "Ok."
**Yoink**
(Me) "Ow! Gasp! Oh my God!.
And there it was. Not just gray, but snow white. And coarse and wiry! Oh God! Hair, why have you betrayed me?????
(Nadine) "And there's plenty more where that came from"! I think she was enjoying this just a little too much.
I put the offending hair into a zippy bag to keep for posterity. I take it out once in a while and look at it and feel it. (Is that creepy)? My grandmother on my father's side had a full head of snow white hair. Is that my future? Not so bad I suppose. Or is my future that of my grandmother on my mother's side. Dark steel gray with lighter gray mixed in? (Shiver).
Well, one thing I know for sure. Those white hairs will soon be a gorgeous shade of dark brown and will not bee seen again until at least my late fifties. There does come a time for all us ladies when you need to step away from the Clairol Box and let nature take over. If you're ninety five with pitch black hair, you're not fooling anybody.
Until that day I shall arm myself with the best. I will continue my war against fine lines and wrinkles with Arbonne's RE9 Advanced skin care and, (this timing couldn't be better), Arbonne's new Pure Vibrance hair care line for colour treated hair.
No Silver Fox here. No thank you Mam! I'm calling the colourist now!
Michy
