Growing old

My big sister just called me and said,"Do you remember how everytime you see me lately, you tell me that I have grey hairs?"
"I do?"
"Yeah, you know how you like to pick at us? Well, everytime I've seen you in like the last 3 months you've told me I have grey hair. So this morning I was actually looking at myself in the mirror and I do damnit! I have a ton of grey hairs" she blurts out in a stage of confusion and anger.
"I do too Kate, it's ok."
"But what am I supposed to do about this problem? I'm a red head, I'm not supposed to get grey hairs."
"I'm so sorry."
"Who do these come from in our family?" Desperatly searching for someone to blame.
"grandpa."
We both start giggling.
"so, what am I supposed to do about this?"
I begin telling her all knowledge I have on coloring of hair from the most expensive treatments to what I do, Sally's Beauty Supply and a night of fun with the roommates. The three great things about this story are listed here:
1). My sister for the last 3 1/2 years has been raising her boys Michael and Nick. So, she has either been preganant or has a baby in her arms. Now that Nick is 1 and walking around she has a little bit more time on her hands or let's just say, different types of time on her hands. So, the fact that she said, I was actually looking at myself in a mirror is not a lie. Not that she's looked shabby or unkept over the last three years, she just hasn't necessarily cared about her looks as much as getting sleep or her babies or making dinner or cleaning up or breathing! My sister is a gorgeous woman with naturally red (maybe with a little grey added) perfectly curly hair. It's that color and shape of hair everyone is envious of. Including her little sister!
2). I am a picker. A nose picker? Well, especially since I got my nose pierced, yes. But I am a picker beyond that as well. I have this horrible habit of being a monkey. Of finding things that are out of place and picking at them. Or pulling them. Or popping them. And I told my sister today that I don't want to be that kind of mom. I don't want to scar my children because they have zits or because they have weird hairs growing from wierd places. I don't want my vanity issues to cross to the next generation. For those of you who know me well you know I have a teeth issue. And one day it's very possible that I marry a man who's dental background just isn't as perfect as my family tree is and we have a child who has some wacked buck tooth or something. I want to be the loving mother who doesn't shame their child. I'm telling you it even went so far one time that my brother Josh started calling me, "zit popping Kristen." And three of my x-boyfriends have gotten more than upset with my nasty little habit as well. My sister promised me that she would come up with a signal so that I would know when I was doing it and I would immediatly cease fire!
3). This dilema is something that you don't consider when you are 23 or 24 or for me even at 26. 27 came and along with it came my first grey hair. Not long after pulling the first, he came back with 7 friends to join him. 7 became 14 and the multiplication keeps on going. So, here we are...27 and 31, groaning over our hair. What to do? What to do? YIKES...and the hardest part for me is that this isn't an easy fixable thing. This is a from now on kind of deal. From now until you are 60 or something...you will be dying your greys. I always said, I'd love to go natural and let them just come in. Who's the biggest liar ever? It's me...It's me...
I will color my hair forever. And I guess, now, so will my sissy!! Misery loves company...