It is official. I am aging.

It was 2007, a brisk Autumn morning in September when I discovered my first grey hair. 2009, when I discovered my first set of forming wrinkles. 2010, I seem to be passing through an unusually early mid-life crisis.

I still remember that hysterical fit I threw when I found that first shinning white hair. It was easy to find considering my hair is a very dark shade of ebony. I remember reading once that it is impossible for anyone to have black hair, just dark shades of brown. I always thought of myself as an exception- regardless of what science said.

That shining silver amazed me, and I wanted to share this with everybody and anybody. It was a new part to me that I had never seen before, and I couldn’t do anything about it but simply laugh. Can you imagine waking up one day, and finding yourself with a new arm? That is what it was. A foreign addition to my being.

Then came the second. And yet again, those overwhelmingly extroverted feelings of astonishment would pride themselves amongst the public. Then the third, fourth, and … yes… I’ve lost count. They are EVERYWHERE. I have my parents to blame for this. It’s all genetic. And to think that I have never really enjoyed my hair. It has always been a ruffled up mess rolled in a bundle and tucked under that helmet, for fear of sin. And now the years have gone by me with a blink of an eye, and taken the youth of my hair with it. Never to be looked it, never to be enjoyed, never to be appreciated. Good bye youth. Good bye hair.