Wednesday, June 23, 2010

On being 35

Yeah, that's what they say. Who the "they" is, I'm not sure.

This morning, I woke up and discovered the "one or two" gray hairs at the crown of my head has now turned into a colony. DIS-GUST-ING. I'm usually excited to whip out the tweezers and get to work on those whitish-gray suckers (pluck, pluck, pluck--- so satisfying!). But today, I saw the horror of the bunch and my heart was anything but gleeful.

On most days, I embrace being 35. In fact, I've never really had a problem with telling people my age (some say it's rude to ask a woman her age, I say, "Go ahead, ask!"). Perhaps in the back of my mind, I know I have my genes as age insurance. The Asian DNA. I look at my 61-year-old Korean mother, with her luminous skin and bright eyes and beautiful smile, and I hope to God that I look that good in 26 years.

But the colony of tiny, silvery hairs has shaken my confidence. That, coupled with my soft, fleshy, post-partum body (read: blubbery, stretched out belly) and being tired all the time (I've got my 4-month-old to thank for that), makes me feel more like a frumpy hausfrau and less like the fabulous 30-something I strive to be.

For me, it's less about staying "young" and more about feeling beautiful and strong and empowered. To that, I say "Damn you, white hairs! I will fight you one tweeze at a time!"

(Until I have to start going to the colorist...)