M.I.A.

Thursday found me struggling to keep up with my own unreasonable standards of casemanagement. So many cases- so little time. After a frustrating... something or other. . . I go to my quiet place. I run my fingers through my hair- sit quietly for a moment, flush, wash my hands...

Standing in front of the mirror- it becomes painfully clear.

There is a gray hair standing straight up.
On top of my head.
Announcing it's presence.

I felt like I had no choice but to quash the revolution and color the rest of them.

Saturday found me with a pair of scissors, and my best friend with a bottle of Warm Ash Brown. I was going to show all the hairs who's boss. Bathroom Barber gave me freshly trimmed bangs and a fancy new (100% coverage) color. The only redeeming quality is my mother's wisdom which goes something like, "Well, you better use sunscreen. See, you either get gray hair or wrinkles- and remember, your grandmother had a full head of black hair when she passed on."

Next month finds me turning 28 years old looking younger today than I did Friday. Thank you L'Oreal- thank you.

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