Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Now that I'm over the threshold of fifty (for the record, I turned 51 in August), I'm going to warn you younger girls of something I wish I had a heads-up on when I turned 40 and my hormones decided to go all wonky and one begins to experience the 'joys' of perimenopause (oh the ups! Oh the downs!). My body kicked in on this early and I am finally over all that mess (and by the way, LOVING it) -- so here's the 411, as they used to say: you will suddenly begin sprouting hair in the most inconvenient places possible. And, sadly, for a lot of you, it will thin in other areas. I now count myself fortunate for being as hairy as a gorilla all my life, b/c my full head of hair is still hanging in there, even though I see an inordinate amount of it going down the drain...

The first time I angled my neck a certain way to look in the magnifying mirror and spotted a long black 'witch' hair underneath my chin I shrieked so loudly my cats came running from the other side of the house. Now, years later, I pluck and go on. And believe me, I also check, every day. You must, sadly, be vigilant about 'detail inspection.' My SIL and I have a pact that if one of us ever lands in the hospital in a coma, the other will sneak in and pluck offending hairs as required. Oh, and about the thinning? It thins on the head and the v-jay-jay -- Samantha on 'Sex and the City' pretty much nailed it when she recoiled in horror at that dreaded discovery. I draw the line, however, at the hair dye. Particularly 'Bozo Red.'

As for the hair on my head? Well, you can see from my photo, I don't dye any hair at all, having quit in my late 40s. I love how soft and shiny it's become, and get tons of compliments. No one's gonna confuse me for being younger than I am. But I don't care. Being called a 'silver fox' is kinda fun.