I plucked a single hair from my head, trying to convince myself it was a shimmering platinum strand. There’s no way it could be white, right? Surely, I have years ahead of me before my hair starts to reveal my age. But I was mistaken. It wasn’t platinum; those days vanished with my youth. After two pregnancies, my once vibrant blonde had morphed into a mysterious shade that danced between brown and honey.
With hesitation, I recalled my mother’s warning: “If you yank one out, two will sprout in its place.” Yet, I brushed her voice aside. Furrowing my brow, I inhaled deeply and decisively pulled that renegade hair out by its roots. Yes! Feeling victorious, I seized the second aging strand and yanked it out too. I was still in control!
I twirled the two white hairs around my finger. They weren’t as terrifying as I had imagined. Pure white, not a muddy gray. Soft, not coarse. They glimmered, catching the sunlight streaming through the bathroom window. They stood as symbols of my journey through adulthood, perhaps even wisdom gained along the way. These hairs were dignified, a reminder that I am fierce! I am a woman who has lived through the chaos of babies, medical emergencies, potty training, and the challenges of kindergarten—all while juggling my career!
As I caught a glimpse of my reflection, cheeks flushed and heart racing, I felt powerful. My lips parted in a triumphant smile. I was a woman in command. With narrowed eyes, I practiced a sultry expression. Yes! A captivating force!
I tossed my hair wildly, pouted my lips a bit more, raised my right eyebrow just slightly, and twisted my smile into an ironic half-grin. Ah! There she was—the woman who knows things. Intriguing things. Provocative things. She could mesmerize anyone with a single glance.
Then I blinked. What was that shiny thing on my eyebrow? Leaning closer, I made eye contact with the alluring stranger in the mirror. It wasn’t just on her eyebrow; it was embedded in it. Panic washed over me.
In an instant, the glamorous woman evaporated, revealing my true self: me, with a straight white hair defiantly poking out of my eyebrow. The eyebrow that once arched invitingly now looked ridiculous, betraying my earlier confidence. I sighed deeply, allowing a moment of reflection on the reality of aging.
With determination, I lifted my head to confront the third rebellious hair. Memories of my grandfather’s bushy, white caterpillar eyebrows swirled in my mind—longer than Kim Kardashian’s faux lashes. I refused to let that be my legacy.
Goodbye, old friend. My tweezers and I are reclaiming my beauty.
This article originally appeared on May 14, 2015.
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In summary, as we navigate the complexities of adulthood and motherhood, we may encounter moments of self-reflection and vulnerability. Embracing these changes, like the appearance of white hairs, can empower us to celebrate our journeys and reclaim our confidence.