I got my hair cut today. I tend to keep it pretty short and disheveled (maintenance-free, baby!), so I just go to the cheap-o Great Clips place around the corner where I can get it cut for $8 with a coupon. Usually, my once-a-month visit is quiet, quick, and pleasant. Today, though? Lacking the pleasant part.
Now, I've been going grey for quite some time. Around 17 or 18, I started to notice my first grey hair, and it's been getting steadily worse since then. Now, I'm downright salt-and-pepper. I'm generally okay with that, and it's probably helped my career a bit. I've found that if I keep my hair short and maybe put a little gel in it, it's not nearly as noticeable to most folks. It doesn't hurt that I'm also 6'4", so there aren't a whole lot of people getting a good view of the top of my head on a regular basis.
Today though, it was an issue. The stylist (someone I'd never seen before) and I were chatting as she trimmed my flowing locks (ha!); just the general chit-chat that always occurs. Somehow, we got to a point in the conversation where I mentioned that I had just had a milestone birthday this past Sunday. Here's how that conversation went:
Me: "Yeah, I just had a milestone birthday this past Sunday."
Her: "Oooo, let me guess how old you turned...um, forty?"
Me (noticeably peeved, I'm sure): "Yeah, um. Actually, no, I just turned thirty."
Her: "Oh my gosh. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to..."
Me: "That's okay, I'm starting to get used to...."
Her: "It's just that I saw all that grey hair on the apron and thought....I mean, you're REALLY grey for thirty."
Wow. Gee, thanks, lady. You sure know how to brighten my day.
At least I only paid $8 for the abuse.