Today was very traumatic. For the last ten years, I knew I was getting up there in age. But I was good with that.
Sort of. I hid my age.
But, today, I cannot hide it anymore. There is no way. It’s all down hill. And, to that I say, “F*** my life!!!”
But let’s start from the beginning. There was a time when I suspected I was getting old and I tried to deal with it. And how did I try to handle the situation? When I say “handled the situation” what I really mean is “hide what’s happening and hope that people believe my BS cause I really can’t handle the fact I’m closer to the grave than a crib.”
When I was in my mid-twenties, I was a dashing prince.
OK, I wasn’t quite “dashing” or a “prince” but I was a looker.
OK, I wasn’t a “looker” but I wasn’t “really ugly cat” ugly.
But I did have things going for me: I had an awesome beard that would make a terrorist proud and an awesome white-man afro. Seriously, people used to grab my awesome mane and give a strong tug to verify I wasn’t wearing some 70’s disco costume wig.
That’s when things took a turn for the worse.
At the age of 28, one of my friends pointed out that I seemed to be thinning a tad on the crown of my head. I didn’t think much about it. That is, until I was 29 years of age and someone told me my yarmulke was messing with my hairline. Big problem: I am Catholic and don’t wear a yarmulke. I’m losing my hair. Like my dad. Like my grandfather.
What do I do? I don’t want to use any of that hair restoration garbage because it messes with my testosterone and I don’t want my plumbing to get clogged up. I will never wear a “rug” because, well, it would look ridiculous. I couldn’t find the perfect color for to use spray-can hair.
Nope. None of that is going to work. I decide the best way to handle this situation is to just shave my head. I figure if I have no hair, no one will be able to see that I have a bald spot. It took a bit to get used to not having hair. It can get cold in the morning. But the advantages were numerous. No more need to comb me hair. No more need to drying my hair after a shower. As a lazy guy, this is awesome.
But it was not over. When hair loss occurs in one area, it grow wildly in others. And grey. Ears, chest, arms, back, legs and undercarriage grew wildly. Back to the clippers. And it worked. I looked smoother. People thought I looked well-groomed. My ex-wife loved it.
But, today, horror!
That’s right! There’s a grey hair in my eye brow! What do I do now? I can’t shave my eyebrows. And I know this is only the beginning. I know that more will grow in. I am done. I must accept my my fate. I am old. I must get over it.
Oh, and I pulled the white hair out.
