So within mere days of turning 33, I was utterly, utterly mortified to discover my first gray hair. Since that horrible moment, I have been paralyzed with the sickening realisation that my youth may be officially over and I'm now on the downward slope to dying all alone. And then having my cold stiff fingers chewed off by my cat. Obviously I yanked out the little bastard gray hair and analysed it for a good long while. Then I had a little cry because it really was quite a tragic moment. Seriously, how can I possibly be in my thirties?!?!?! I only finished school the other day. Right? Never mind that I haven't achieved ANY of the things I thought I would've by now (successful writer, gorgeous husband, two well-behaved kids and a beautiful big home with my BMW parked in one of the garages, and a holiday house in Tuscany). No, instead I live alone with my cat and now my hair is getting old on me. Oh. My. God.
Pass me the bottle.
