This gray hair is taunting me! Everyday when I look in the bathroom mirror at work, the silvery little strand springs from the crown of my head, shimmering in the fluorescent light. I try to yank it out quickly before any of my coworkers catch me in the act, but the annoyingly conspicuous, slippery little sucker stubbornly stays put.
That is, until I return to the privacy of my home, armed with its tool of destruction: my trusty tweezers. Iíll carefully part my hair, anticipating the pleasure Iíll get once Iím finally free of this tormentor. But each night it retreats into hiding under my dark locks. Now Iím back in the office and here it is, right in plain sight. Is this some kind of sick joke? Itís like the gods are laughing at me by giving me grays that that I canít even pull out.