I wrote this on May 10th of this year. This was before I had a blog, but I wrote it because I needed to write it out. And I just found it on the laptop and I thought, what the heck, why not put it on the blog? Enjoy :)

"One of the worst things I personally can think of to happen to any person is going gray. But I’m talking about going gray at a young age. Maybe some kids, young adults don’t mind, but I tell you I am most certainly NOT one of them. I’m sure most of you know of Taylor what’s-his-name from American Idol. He won the competition in 2007? Anyway, that’s not important. What’s important is that he had gray-silver hair. He’d gained it at a young age and had not dyed it. Why is that significant? Because ladies and gentlemen, I have discovered that I, Molly, at freaking 18-years-old am going gray.
Three weeks ago-ish, I was doing my hair. I have medium brown hair, which was growing out because I was TIRED of having fun with dying it and wanted to go back to my natural hair color. Mind now, I haven’t had totally natural hair since I was probably 12. So one, I couldn’t necessarily know what my natural color was at this point. I had good three or four inches. I hadn’t dyed my hair since January. It had faded and I loved it for the most part. I so wanted natural hair.
Anyway, my hair. I saw this one hair. I have light hairs scattered throughout and for the most part they are a golden blond. Looking as close as possible I noticed this hair was definitely NOT blond. No way, not blond. Not going to lie here, I probably committed the cardinal sin of taking it out. No way was a gray hair gonna keep living on my head. I examined the darn thing. It was a gray-silver. It was almost white when compared to my dark hair. My first reaction? Panic. Um, hello, I’m 18 here. My plan was staying gray-free until I was in my 60s.
I told my mom. She tried to comfort me, and reason it out. She said it was probably a stress thing, some weird fluke. I didn’t buy that. Next person to tell, Sophie. I’m not sure why I told the 16-year-old sister who has blond hair and doesn’t have a strand of gray or much stress either. Third was Mia. She was very sorry for me. Meanwhile, I’m trying to convince myself there weren’t anymore. I was scared. I try not to be vain, but my hair? Skin problems are one thing, hair TEXTURE, body type, self-esteem, body image; all those things have their place. But my hair color? My only thoughts to that was do I want it dyed or not and if dyed, what color am I interested in?
I left my hair alone. Tried to forget about it. I was worried. I have a life chock full of stress and worry and all that fun stuff. Two weeks ago, doing my hair again. For the heck of it, I wanted to check my hair. I was so hoping there weren’t more. Of course there were more. Half of those pretty blond hairs, upon closer examination, were that dreaded gray-silver. Around my hairline, and scattered throughout. I refused to let my mom look, I was just too upset. Again, I notified Mia. She immediately said that we would pick out a good color for me.
Maybe it’s stupid…but this really upsets me. I never thought anything like this could happen to me. I asked my mom about our family genes, and we couldn’t figure out for sure any grandparent or ancestor I could’ve gotten it Last Saturday, Mia and I made one of our frequent late-night trips to Super Wal-Mart. I let her pick the color. She picked black, which of course is a color I can pull of really well. She had a few minutes of convincing to do, but she’s my best friend and I haven’t told her to run my life for nothing. So $6.87 for hair dye, with two names. Bright Black/Black Stilettos. By the way, I have NEVER worn black stilettos, or stilettos period. Those are not in my wardrobe and I doubt they ever will be.
We went back to my house. 45 minutes later, after letting Mia douse my head with the stuff (she wanted to try her hand at the application of it), and a shower to rinse it all out, I had bright black, stiletto black, raven hair. It air-dried.
I liked it. I wanted to cry because I didn’t know when I’d have natural hair again, or what it would look like or anything, and I missed it. I’d been so proud of myself for not giving into temptation to dye it. Some girls like to tan. Some girls get manicures and pedicures. Some girls wear a horrendous amount of makeup everyday. I like to change up my hair color. I stay in my brunette zone though. No blond or red for me. Chocolate browns, chestnut browns, black.
But I did like it.
I went to work, everyone loved it. That boosted up my confidence about it, because I was pretty scared that no one would like it, no matter how much Mia and my mother reassured me it was amazing and beautiful.
I panicked on Wednesday. Someone who I shouldn’t have listened to said they didn’t like it. I went to Wal-Mart, bought a dark chocolate brown.
I never used it. It’s sitting on my dresser.
I talked to a friend. I was again, reassured. I noticed it did make me look pretty. My eyes were darker, my skin was showcased.
Inside though, I’m still panicking. I look in the mirror and see the dark hair, yet imagine I see silver. I feel like the dye missed some of them. I see my hair shine and it looks gray and I touch my hair trying to find them, only to loose them in the black. I’m scared. I don’t want to have gray hair. Silver hair. White hair. Or any combination of the three!
I’m too young right? Maybe I’ll be comfortable with it someday. But right now, I want to hide it. Very much hide it.
I could blame any number of stresses and life event for it and I don’t doubt that’s some of it. But even so, when they appear your hair doesn’t go back to what it was before. Each hair is forever changed.
It’s tough. I like the idea of hats a lot right now. We’ll see. For now, I have dark hair. I miss my medium brown.
That’s my hair story for anyone wondering about the sudden change. I can’t hide this, and while I might want to, I’m not a good secret-keeper, not for my own secrets anyway. I’m an open book.

Wish me luck."