I will admit to being rather happy with the fact that I don't look my age. It certainly is not something I would brag about, but quietly I love it. I was still in my early thirties the last time I was was carded at a pub. The lighting was very poor, she was young, and most likely carded everyone. But still, it was useful when it came time to tease older, more gray haired friends.
Gar's beard is gradually graying, while the rest of him is still in incredible shape, due to the weights he lifts every day, and the miles he runs. But I still occasionally tease him about his expanding gray streaks, his reply is that it is a sign of maturity. He is getting more mature by the day.
Suddenly this spring chicken's age has come home to roost, and my maturity is showing. At first I plucked the few manageable gray hairs. Then there was a population explosion of gray that multiplied, and migrated to all over my head, and I started to worry. I love gray hair, I think that it looks wonderful. But on another person's head.
I am just not ready to be older. Yet. I am to young to be middle aged, how did this happen?