I curled my hair today.

I recently got my hair cut and I hadn’t tried it since that had happened. It’s much shorter now, resting at my shoulders. I wanted to see what it would look like before I did it and actually had to be somewhere. It would be my luck that I would do something just before I needed to be someplace and it would make me look completely ridiculous.

While I was testing out curling my new hairstyle with my flat iron, I found that things were going just how they had before four inches of hair had been chopped off. I grabbed an inch-wide section of hair and then I saw it.

Once I saw it, my eyes locked and there was no way I was going to let it get away from me.

With the hand that was not holding the flat iron, I yanked the solitary white strand of hair right out of my head.

I found a gray hair.

I’m 23 years old and I found a gray hair on my head.

With just two sections curled, I promptly bolted up the steps to go show my mother.

She was unsympathetic.

This deeply upsets me. I don’t want gray hair. I’m not old old. I mean, yeah, 23 is old. But there are certainly people on this earth older than me. I don’t need a gray hair to tell me that I’m old and have lost all of my youth. Ohhhh, the humanity!!

And watch, because I yanked it out (it was an instinct, I swear!), a million more will sprout up because that just how my life goes.

I can’t wait to look 123 years old when I’m just 23. I’m just so psyched.