Remember that “Sex and the City” episode about secret single behaviors? You know, those quirky activities many of us do during our alone time, like Carrie’s grape and saltine sandwiches or Charlotte’s pore-staring, that, according to the New York Times, are done by real people.
Well, mine is searching for gray hairs. I have about a dozen of them now and nothing gives me a more complicated and perverse sense of pleasure than finding them — and removing them, one by one. It is kind of like hunting, except nothing really dies and I don’t have to leave my bathroom.
When I first found a gray hair a couple of years ago I didn’t think twice before yanking it out. An anomaly! I thought. How silly. That hair follicle clearly didn’t understand that it was totally out of place on my then-29-year-old head. But now that there are more of them I can no longer view those pigment-less strands as aberrations. Nope, I have a few gray hairs because I am aging.
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