Warning: this post may not appropriate for young viewers or men or women with weak stomach or anyone with a fear of Chaetophobia and or Gerontophobia. It contains grossness, in a gross way… also as in repel, revolt, freakness and or disgust. You don’t want to read this. Okay, you have been warned. This courtesy warning was brought to you by Legs,,,, long, long, legs. I found out quickly that gross types of post need to carry some type of rating system.
Yesterday while I was driving down the mountain, I started sorting out the evils of the day, when all of a sudden I felt a tickle. I gave it a swipe and forgot about it. On the way back home I had to crank up the heater fan to warm these old bones and that is when I felt it again. I flipped down the mirror but saw nothing. For 40 miles I worried with this occasional flutter.
That night I was walking to the bathroom to do my night time routine and I felt it again. Earlier in the day, I had looked in the rear view mirror several times to find the source of this irritant but it was not to be. Then I thought, maybe I am having a stroke. I don’t have time for a stroke! Nope it had to be a hair or a spider web. I was bound and determined to find the source of this annoyance. So I started feeling all over my face. I finally found it. It felt like a string attached to my cheek…maybe with syrup. Hey, it could happen! As my fingers fondled this string, I noticed it was about a mile long. Well, that is what it felt like but in reality it was only about 3 inches long (that is around 7 cm for the rest of the planet). How in the world did a 3 inch string get stuck on my cheek with syrup and managed to evade my searching eyes? I ran to the bathroom mirror to get a better look. I quickly found out it was not a string at all it was a hair, however, this was no ordinary hair. NO! Oh no, it turns out it was a cluster of little locks. ON MY CHEEK! And there was not a hint of syrup anywhere. This mane was attached with FOLLICLES. I had a sinking feeling this was going to be one of those, your getting way old, moments so I locked the door and stared at the reflection before me. How in the world could a CLUSTER of hairs be growing on my cheek at a measurement of three inches with out somebody, anybody noticing. I am not talking where the cheek meets the hair line. I am talking right in the middle of my cheek!
Wait, maybe someone did notice but was afraid to tell. OMG.
The shame of it all.
I began contemplating how to handle this. To shave, would open Pandora’s box. You remember don’t you? Mom always said if you start shaving your hair will grow back twice as dark, twice as fast, and twice as much. Twice as much? That would be 6 inches! No way was I going to shave it. After what seemed like hours of agonizing scenarios, I decided to wrap, yes that is what I said, wrap it around my finger and yank that frigin’ pony tail right off my face.
And I did.
Remove the pony tail.
Hurt like no bodies business.
Son of a Bisquick eater!
To add insult to injury, literally, I was really surprised to see that it was not blonde. It was not even dirty blonde. It was a painter’s palette of several shades of gray strands; some were so gray they were white, others were shimmering in the bathroom light and still the others were just plain old gray with a bit of character to them. By character I mean, kinky little wiry hairs some stiff as a board others just waving in the wind. It was a pony tail, I tell ya, of mixed origins !
I guess I should thank my lucky stars that I did not have a Papa Smurf beard. And after further inspection I did not find any sign of a fu manchu, goatee, mutton chops, soul patch (okay my mind just went somewhere it should not have gone), or any other volume of hair worthy of the Y chromosome. I did notice a bit of a ‘stache on the upper lip. I’m going to have to keep an eye on that.
In conclusion: I am finding out that growing old comes with a few perks but it also carries with it a few surprises. So check out your face daily. Take it from me, no one is going to want to tell you about that full-on pony tail you got growing on the side of your jowl.
Move over Wicked Witch of the West there is a new gal in town. (insert wicked laugh here)