The gray hairs I plucked a few weeks ago came back—and they brought friends! I plucked five more out tonight. Why God, why? At least if I was blonde they’d blend in a lot better. I can’t afford to grow old if it means I have to start going to a stylist to get my roots dyed.
At least I don’t have wrinkles—yet. Although, I kinda think wrinkles are sexy, because they tell a story about the person. A face that has laugh lines is a good thing—it means the person is happy, right?