A hippie with painted worry lines

Stress levels are at an all-time high. As I was telling a friend, my sulk cycle goes like this: Silence with evident sullenness -> Shouting/blaming/talking back -> Final breakdown with endless crying.

I know what you're thinking - This is every woman! But anyway, I'm currently in the first stage and absolutely dreading what's to come next. Since this takes place atleast once a year, I know the future stages are virtually inevitable.

Two years ago when I got recruited by my current firm, I knew I would be shifting in two years time. And I was pretty chilled out till I realized time is closing in and I need to start applying all over again. Rejection, of all types, is my biggest fear. The interview process, the path leading to rejection hell. I have so many expectations from my potential employer that meeting them, though, may not be impossible, thoughts of self-doubt creep up every now and then that may lead to me giving up without even trying. And then I will see less deserving people land my dream job and I will huff and puff and tell myself it wasn't meant to be.

The number of hours I have spent talking about my industry of choice, Bombay as the only location under consideration and salary package that ensures that I don't live like a pauper in that pigeon-hole city as I pay my education loan EMIs, have been making me dizzy. While some friends instill hope of such companies existing and discuss the subsequent probability of my recruitment, others (looking at my desperation) simply ask me to compromise and drop one of the three conditions. Then there's the whole music thing, why am I not doing anything about it...blah...blah...I think I'll skip right to the third and final crying stage.

But it is this stress leading to additional stresses is what's really stressing me out. Say hello to weight gain and gray hair.

When a middle-aged man in your team asks you to start using the office gym, you know things are rather awry. The "getting healthy, winter style" doesn't bother me as much as possible health problems do. Lately my family has been plagued with all sorts of diseases and it's freaking me out. Cancer has quite literally spread like cancer and having closely seen three such cases in my immediate family, without any genetic history, trust me you wouldn't even wish it on an enemy. Gym and a healthy diet starts pronto. Maybe after I lick all the crumbs off this pizza box.

This is ridiculous. Now every time I look at the mirror, I look at my hair more than my face. Every day, around three times a day, I play Spot The Gray And Pluck It Out. A Zen-like state might help the cause to an extent, but you can't help thinking you're not getting any younger. 

There are two solutions to this:

a) Start coloring hair as soon as the number of gray hair on the head surpasses the single digit count. The Salt and Pepper look may look hot on a guy, I seriously doubt the trend will extend to our species anytime soon.

b) Get married asap so there's no pressure to look young. Darling, let's grow old together.

Where marriage is a mortal fear (similar to rejection), coloring my hair seems like a worse idea. Do you even know what all one needs to do to take care of colored hair? Buy expensive shampoos, go for hair spas (which I am absolutely clueless about) then you slowly watch them get brittle and fall out eventually. Are you friggin mad? Marriage seems easy peasy in front of it. 

God, I need a vacation.