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I got my braces off in 2008. My shiny teeth and I walked into my geometry class just beaming and was met with gasps and awe. I hadn’t told anyone when I was getting my braces off. I wanted the news to be spread by others instead of telling them myself; it’s more exciting that way. Friends and fans gathered around me in the cafeteria as I consumed my first meal post-metal-mouth. A week later, my fresh and free teeth were sealed in plastic retainers that I NEVER got used to. Having to conceal the slimy tooth torture devices was always a hassle, and I felt like I was constantly brushing my teeth and my retainers but was still faced with unstoppable plaque. If I left them at home for even a few hours, I would put them back in, and the pressure put on my teeth that was forcing them back into place felt strong enough to snap them in half. But I smiled through the pain because at least I was pretty.
Then in high school, I hit the peak of puberty — the best time of any teen’s life. Along with unexplainable and unrestrained mood swings and walking around bow-legged after using tampons for the first time, came a whole forehead full of oily, bumpy, toad-like skin. I went to sleep one night with my sweet soft virgin skin and woke up looking like I use Crisco as a facial cleanser. I despairingly learned how to cake on Covergirl Clean powder foundation thick enough to cover the angriest zit (or, later, hickeys). As soon as one was popped, another one popped up. It was horrendous, but it was expected. I knew that it would eventually go away as I got older. I was not happy about having to still wear my retainers and slather on Proactiv, but I was okay because at least I was skinny.
College was a time for me to find myself and also a time for my metabolism to come to a screeching halt. After school practice was replaced with 4-hour midday naps, and homemade meals were replaced by dining hall food that seemed to be laced with Immodium. My horrid health habits and dwindling metabolism were no match for my weekend diet of Burnett’s Pink Lemonade and 3 a.m. pizza. It was terrible for my waistline and also my skin. My pores were just as clogged as my arteries. As I drunkenly half-ass wiped all of the makeup off of my face after a night out, I’d get frustrated that I was still having to scrub my face and suffocate my teeth every night. But I knew that it’s going to be fine because at least I was young.
I wake up for work before the sun and start my day by ripping my retainers out of my face. I scroll through Twitter and then knuckle-drag myself to the bathroom to check out the damage my 112% Benzoyl Peroxide wash has done to every part of my face except the zits. I jimmy my body into some jeans and paint my face like a clown before sealing it with the same Covergirl Clean powder foundation I’ve been using since high school. I look in the mirror and sigh at the best that it’s going to get.
But one particular morning, I decided to curl my hair to make myself feel a little pretty. I was almost done when I spotted amongst my processed colored hair a single gray strand. This tress of stress nearly gave me a brain aneurysm. I had all of the problems of being young without the benefits of being young, and now I was looking old without being wise. I took several hundred deep breaths before finding peace within myself. It will be fine. So I have some flaws. It’s okay to be human. I appreciate this sign of age because at least I don’t have any wrinkles. Yet..
Respond
@ali__hin
@ali_hin
Hey, remember, we are all very ugly to some and very attractive to others. You just gotta find yourself a guy that’s also rockin the salt and pepper look and it’s a match made in heaven.
PSA: I follow Ali on Twitter and she has a girlfriend
Or a girl with some overly defined power alleys who’s looking to park her Nioxin right next to her Covergirl Clean powder foundation in the bathroom cabinet.
Or a guy with some overly defined power alleys who’s looking to park his Nioxin right next to her Covergirl Clean powder foundation in the bathroom cabinet.
My beard started turning more salt than pepper at 28. PGP.
I welcome gray hair because it means I still have hair.
Everyone told me there would a magical time between acne and wrinkles. I’m still waiting for that. Adult acne is fun. PGP.
I got a pimple today and seriously considered calling in sick to work.
If that’s call in sick material then I’d never go to work
“..check out the damage my 112% Benzoyl Peroxide wash has done to every part of my face except the zits.” hit me in the feels. Accutane was a godsend when I went on it.
I have been reading PGP for years without feeling the need to make an account, but just created one to say this: OWN IT. I myself have gray hairs mixed in at the forefront of my brown hair that my friends lovingly refer to as my “power strip.” At first, I was self-conscious about it, but as time goes on I’ve learned to love it. The grays add character! Go on with your bad self, girl #LoveYourself2018
Can’t wait to rock the salt and pepper look, going full dad mode
Trained my daughter to refer to me as a “silver fox”.
I made fun of my older sister when she found her first gray hair, but then I remembered that’s me in a couple years and it stopped being funny.
I’d rather have grey hair than thinning hair. Pretty much gave up and decided to just start shaving it every 2 weeks.
The only good thing about being a male with blond hair is the fact that I can’t quite tell if they are grays or just light blond hairs.