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Four strands of grey
"Stop. Don't move," he said.
She froze. Was it a bug? It's New Year's Eve 2001. Too cold for bugs.
He gently identified a single strand of grey hair and asked if she wanted to see it.
"No! Not me," she gasped. Her father did not turn grey until he had retired in his sixties. She attributed this to genetics and his regular diet of fresh fish.
"Well, do you want me to pull it out?"
It was her first grey hair. She had never thought it would happen to her. She was single, child-free, and naturally, stress-free. It was a one-off, she concluded.
Two months later, he found another strand.
"Pull it out," she demanded.
It was grey alright. There was no mistake about it. While friends her age had been turning grey, she had been secretly thankful that her genes and seafood diet had prevented the onset of greyness.
She decided that she would not have anymore grey hair.
Two years later, he found another grey strand.
"Pull it out. Don't tell anyone," she panicked.
The day after, he found yet a fourth strand of grey.
"What's happening? Am I turning grey?" she agonised
He comforted her. "These are just wild hairs. Nonconformists. If you really turned grey, you'd get patches of grey not just singletons. Besides, I don't care if you turn grey. I already have grey hairs in my beard if I grow it."
Turning grey doesn't mean getting old. It's a natural process. But she had to accuse him,"I've never had grey hair before I met you. See what you've done to me!"
He retorted,"I've never had wrinkles before I met you."
6 February 2004 Friday