More Secrets Of The MML

Tonight I was thinking about television and my mild love affair with it. I'm not crazy addicted like some people but there are shows I like and shows I want to watch every week (Hello? Hugh Laurie? Duh). With summer quickly approaching and only one finale to go (Lost), I realized that I have to find a way to fill my evenings with some mindless brain mushing activity. This usually means I get hooked on a television show that I didn't actually watch when it was originally aired. Thanks to Netflix, I get my fix and everything's good. Right now, it's Heroes. 6 episodes in and I'm crushing on it.

Anyway, my point. Because there is one. Really. I was thinking about television and the need to have a new summer show which got me thinking about my crazy psychological need to always have some sort of obsession. I realize that this probably isn't a surprise to those of you that know me. Heck, it's probably not even a surprise to those of you that don't. But, it's gotten me incredibly frustrated lately. Why do I always need to be obsessed with something? Insane cravings for whatever the need of the day/week/month is until I burn out, barely bothering to think about it again. What is my problem? And how do I fix it? Because, honestly, it's killing me.

Now, secret number two because my brain often segues in illogical ways: As I was thinking about the obsessions and my current obsession to rid myself of them, I happened to glance in the mirror. Again, not a secret to those who know me but, it's true, I'm going gray. This is not shocking. I've had random silver hairs on my head since I was 9 and my first true tiny streak of gray at the ripe old age of 21. It's my genetic calling...both my parents and both my grandmothers went prematurely gray. (Though how my brother has escaped this, I'm not sure. Geez, he gets all the good stuff!) So, I was dying my hair because that's what 32 year old, graying women do. It's the only socially acceptable option. But the truth is, I hate dying my hair. And, the bigger secret is that I'm sort of fascinated by the amount of gray that is popping up. Is that weird? To want to let the dye grow out to see how gray my hair really is? Yes, it's killing my mom and I think J would rather I cover it up. But aren't you curious? Besides, I'm thinking I could tell people I'm 45 and they'd think I look good for my age. And, really, who doesn't want that?