An open letter to the patch of gray hair I found on above my right ear.

To the keratin growing out of my scalp:

Now, it may be partly my fault because I dye you different colors too frequently, but ever since I stopped stealing adderol and ritalin from my (imaginary) little brother, I get bored easily. The decision to grow you out to your natural (mousy) brown was something I thought long and hard about. I know you liked being red. Lindsay Lohan made ginger kids cool. But that stopped being hip once Li-Lo dyed hers blonde and started getting in car crashes and doing cocaine off of 30 year old Japanese and lesbian DJ's (thus proving the blondes have more fun theory).
After about three months of not dying you I found the first gray hair. It was in my bangs, hiding amongst the most visible part of my hairstyle. I thought to myself, "It's okay, it's just one hair. Everyone finds at least one by the time they're 20. Right? Right." So I yanked that shit out faster than K-Fed after he realized Britney was pregnant again. All was well.
Then, this past weekend I was getting ready for a wedding that I was already nervous about because it was for my older brother's best friend who I have always been madly in love with. Like, when he used to sleep over when they were in middle school, I would handcuff myself to the couch and insist that mom and dad allowed me to watch Beavis and Butthead with them. Naturally, I would laugh when they laughed, and they would mute the TV at the commercials and ask me thought-provoking questions about why the show was funny. My little seven year old head could not comprehend anything past the fart jokes, let alone the weed jokes, and I would cry and be unable to leave because I was handcuffed to the couch. God he was so hot. He also used to tell me that only Genies ate flan, and since I didn't like flan, I wasn't cool enough to be a genie. God he's hot.
So anyway, I wanted to look super sexy at his wedding, so he realizes the huge mistake he made in not marrying me. I was straightening you like a normal human being, and then I saw it. This web of GRAY on the right side of my head. We're talking a full on skunk spot that rivals my 1st grade teacher Mrs. Steinberg's giant gray tuft. It wasn't cool looking either, like Rogue, mainly because I didn't endure impending death to achieve my new found lack of pigment. It was just ugly. And to make matters worse, the gray stopped about two inches down because I was growing you out and trying to be au natural for once.
So what did I do first? I think you can remember. I screamed. Really loud. For my mom. I asked her when she found her first hair. She said 33. I said what the fuck, come look at this. She examined my head and then laughed and said sucks for you. I then screamed for my dad. When did you first find your first gray hair. He said he couldn't remember but not when he was still in college. I called my brother (who is 28). He said I was a freak and that he didn't have any grey's yet. So I stared long and hard and came to a decision. I must be related to John Henson or Steve Martin. No one rocks the gray quite like Steve, and the skunk spot was put on the map with Henson of Talk Soup fame (not to be confused with The Soup, which is good, but doesn't have the same zing of it's father episodes). But I digress.
Hair, your job is to find my real birth father. I'm kind of hoping it's John Henson, cause that would mean my mom is a total cougar, which gives me bragging rights among my Fraternized friends. Who knows how long I've had this skunk spot for? I've been dying my hair various shades of red and brown since the 10th grade, and now as I am on the threshold of true American legality, I find the truth in you, dear spot, which I am slowly growing to appreciate. You could have been around as early as fifteen and I would never know. Luckily I'm a girl and have long hair, so I can hide you until you start getting out of control.
That being said, what sounds better to you, Ash Blonde or Deep Auburn?

With love,
Your body.