Friday

Growing up and growing out.

 “Silver strands tend to be coarse and unruly and they have a habit of sprouting straight up. I’m cultivating a new kind of plant, more wisteria than philodendron”
Elisabeth Egan for the New York Times recently wrote an essay on growing out her gray hair. This is something I’ve considered on and off. I’ve always caved. 

During COVID I was excited to find a streak of white at one of my temples. “I’ll be a silver fox!” I thought excitedly. I googled articles on caring for silver hair. I fantasized about having snow-white hair, the same color as my mother-in-law’s, and how cool that would look. My hair grows fast, so I waited with breathless anticipation. And waited. And waited. 

It turns out that I’ve inherited my mother’s graying pattern. When she died, much too young at age 61, her temples were slightly gray. The rest of her hair was a cool brown. My grandmother’s hair, as well, never quite turned white. When she died at age 86 it was a dark gray, with some darker streaks still visible. So, no silver fox for me. Just hair that is inexplicably dark, given my Northern European roots, with streaks of gray. Sprinkles, really. Sparkles. I sparkle
What I accomplished this week: Not much. I should have done more. That’s a fact, not a self-shaming. I was mysteriously tired this week. I just started on a new dose of semaglutide, which might account for that. 

Current weight: 87 kg. (Down from 90kg) I’m sitting here trying to convince myself to get off the chair and go workout.