I am far from being gruntled, to borrow a phrase from P.G. Wodehouse. FAR from being gruntled. Here I am, at the tender age of 27 with at least TWO white hairs. I don’t mean blond, or grey, or white-ish. I mean Glowing Like a Full Moon WHITE. Now I’ll be the first to admit that I am a little vain about my hair (see posts about cancer), but really, white hair before 30 is the beyond the frozen limit. How *dare* they? I don’t even have children to blame it on (this leaves B, Maverick, or cancer).
Commish is in the dog house for saying A) “I have lots of white hairs too.” (as if my father having a few white hairs too is supposed to comfort me.) and worse B) “I bet you’ll be snow-white by 35.” (who asked him, anyways?!?) Mustang, kick him in the ankle for me.