GRAY-ING PAINS

I noticed my first gray hair when I was 22. I  had finished my lunch break and was blotting fresh lipstick when I saw it shining there in my Clinique powder compact mirror. I ran my fingers through my hair and looked again, certain it was an errant thread or a misplaced streak of white out. But no...it remained, stubborn in it's need to be a part of the other  carefully coifed strands.
They began to multiply quite steadily thereafter and so began my long affair with Miss Clairol. Golden brown, light ash brown, light auburn, red (huge mistake), and a variety of brunettes. But as anyone of a certain age knows, they become even more stubborn. A flat refusal to soak in the color and, well, blend. 20 minutes, 30 minutes, even 40 minutes and still, bits of gray showing through. My hairdresser, Jeannette, suggested an overall coloring followed by high-lights that would help mask the intruders. It worked. But I began to tire of the whole process.
I remembered my mother who had finally given in to the grays and simply stopped coloring. I cited several actresses who had beautiful silver-ish locks and decided that, I too, would let it grow. I would become what I was. A 50 something grandmother. After all, there is no shame in aging gracefully...I refuse to have any "work"done so why force my hair to be something other than what it is supposed to be! 
I felt such freedom...such strength...such anticipation! I began to notice more and more women with gray and silver do's and I thought 'why hadn't I done this years ago?"
It was one morning aprox.eight weeks into the process that my husband, head tilted, slight frown said very matter-of-factly "the back of your head is completely gray."  "Yes, I know...I told you I was going to let my hair grow."  "But...it's gray." "Yes. What color did you think it was going to be? Maybe you thought that I had been hiding platinum blonde underneath the ash brown?"  He said nothing more (he's a smart man) but the moment he left I saw the sad truth in the bathroom mirror. The back of my head was, indeed, completely gray while the front had apparently not received the memo and was a strange sort of mottled color of brown, red, old blonde highlights and, of course, grey. My head resembled an aging, mangy calico cat.
I couldn't believe it! I cannot even begin to tell you how many miles I walk or how many boneless, skinless chicken breasts I have eaten and yet my cholesterol remains high. I changed my eating habits, exercise, and lifestyle and still I battle high blood pressure, but this...this particular betrayal was too much! Seriously? I can't even grow uniformly gray hair!!! Once again I had to face the cold hard facts. Gone were the long beautiful tresses of my youth and gone was the image of my new found self. Silver and glowing. 
I had no choice. I called Jeannette and made an appointment and she deftly colored the grays and left the high lights. We talked about a new hair style and I said that I would like to let it grow out a little. Jeannette knows me as well as she knows my hair and shows me how to style it while it is growing. She then places her hand on my shoulder and speaks carefully to my reflection "You are going to have to be a little patient."
Oh! I will... I think...maybe...at least for the next six weeks.