Grasse Matinée

I had big plans to make big plans for Friday night. I would call a copine, we would get margaritas or kir or some other girly cocktail and talk, talk, talk about our holiday vacations. Then it would be getting late and we would be getting hungry, so we would go find yummy food and order une bouteille de vin and talk, talk, talk some more until it was time to call cabs and fall into bed.  Copain had man-plans with Chinois (TV, beer, etc), so it was the perfect night for me to have girl-plans. 

Ethel

I became suspicious one day as I put on makeup in my teeny bathroom and saw a glimmer in the mirror.  My suspicion grew when I was washing my hands at work and it caught my eye again. I tossed it off as a leftover blond highlight from September 2010. And then, it reared its ugly head...

This Christmas, Santa gave me A GRAY HAIR.

Just one. gray. hair. 

He obviously did not get my memo about bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens. (preferably in brown paper packages tied up with strings...) Gray hairs aren't one of my favorite things... (is bursting into songs from musicals a sign of old age?)

a hem. As I was saying...a gray hair. on my head. in my bangs, to be precise. As soon as the reality of it all struck, I called down the hall, " MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!". She came running (probably worried I had fallen in the toilet or burned myself with a curling iron). I showed her Santa's version of coal for adults. And then, she laughed her buttocks off at me.  My dad heard her laughing and came to see what the fuss was all about. Then he started laughing his buttocks off.

Then Copain told me that I need to start dying my hair again.

I still refuse to spend 100 euros every three months to cover just one gray hair. Ethel will be cleverly hidden under my other, melanin-rich hairs.  And until Ethel makes friends, that is how things will remain. 

In other news, I have switched to an anti-wrinkle day cream as a complement to my anti-wrinkle night cream.