AFI: Girls Not Grey

This weekend, a friend was running his fingers through my hair when all of the sudden he just stopped and gasped. He then called over my friends; no, it wasn’t head lice – it was a grey mutherfucking hair. Ok, ok, I know it’s just one hair – one little, coarse, straggly fucking grey hair, but still. Of course, I coolly played it off like it was no big deal, but it most certainly was a big deal and I most certainly am pissed off about it. All week I have been looking in the magnified mirror and last night, while shopping for jeans at Saks, I caught myself in the cosmetics department, looking for eye cream. Eye cream - like some middle-aged woman trying to smooth away years of exposure, drinking, drugs, and shooting needles in her arm… oh wait a minute – shit. But unlike that woman, I am not middle-aged and far enough from 30 to not be looking for wrinkle cream. Did I buy some, anyway, you ask? Fuck yes, I bought some – I refuse not grow old gracefully and if I can put a couple hundred bucks into something now that will save me thousands later in peels, lasers, and cosmetic surgery, consider it done.