“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?” ~Satchel Paige
It is happening. Ugh. I’m getting old. The proof is on the top of my head–right in the middle. Where the part is. Boldly sticking up in odd angles amidst my red curly hair are–I can barely force myself to admit this–GREY HAIRS. As I have mentioned previously, I really screwed up when I went through the DNA-selection line-up. It would seem that I opted for all the negative traits from each of my parents–the short, hammer-toed, freckly genes. And the one that makes my hair shift from copper to white in my early forties.
My husband noticed them first. Likely because he is a foot taller than me and spends a great deal of his life looking at the top of my head. And also because he is the most observant person I have ever met. Seriously, I live with a real life Columbo. Except less bumbling and without the wrinkled clothing.
So how have I coped with my unwelcomed white hairs? I haven’t. I pluck the ones at the front and my husband does the rest. We are extremely careful not to pull any of the treasured reds. It’s the ones that are white on the ends and red by the root that confuse me. Is this a hair that couldn’t decide what colour it wanted to be? I could see it starting out red, then getting tired and turning grey. But why go from grey to red again? Is my new Pantene condition the equivalent to Geritol for hair?
Can anyone explain this phenomenon? Am I just a freak with mutant hair?
1) OMG. I nearly pee’d myself. I realize that incontinence comes with getting older, but this time it was due to laughter. Lots of it. The source of my mirth–the Guinness World Record Holder for the longest ear hair.
Seriously, who lets themselves look like this? Apparently, India’s Victor Anthony does. His flowing earlocks are 18.1 cm (7.12 inches) long. Who lets their ear hair get longer than their head hair?
How the hell does he hear? Just now I wound up some of my head hair and shoved it in my ears. It significantly muffled the Jeopardy theme song. Ah. Now I know why he keeps it.
2) Have I told you how much I love the Japanese? Seriously. The more I blog, the more I want to go to Tokyo and have a square watermelon, a tube of hard-boiled egg, and eat a square of a tomato chocolate bar.
I might even have to check out one of their cutting edge fashion shows like the one pictured here–An Adult Diaper show. Seriously, first it’s grey hair. Next, it’s Depends.
Actually, it turns out Depends is not our only option. Diaper manufacturers showcased their newest models as happy and extremely dry men and women paraded the catwalk to 80’s hits like Frankie Goes to Hollywood‘s Relax. How can anyone relax when they are wearing a diaper over their clothes? On stage to boot? And to make matters more complicated they are raising their arms in the air. I could never do that on stage wearing diapers. The nerve-induced pit-stains would clear out the whole front row.
Obviously, the Japanese are much braver people than I.
3) The older I get, the more I fart. And they aren’t cute little popcorn farts either. They are foamy-sounding monsters. It’s like a giant balloon being deflated in my pants. I’m not worried though. No matter how bad they get, my flatulence will never pose a threat to Global Warming.
Yes, I went from farts to Global Warming. Why? Well, it turns out that scientists are now blaming the dinosaur’s intestinal tract for ancient Global Warming. Yes, their farts were that bad. It is believed that dinosaurs produced more methane than all of today’s natural and man-made pollutants combined. Damn vegetarian diet.
Photo Credits: Ear hairs, (missosology.info), Diaper Fashion Show (inventorspot.com), Vultures (http://bigeyedeer.wordpress.com/2007/07/03/this-cartoon-is-circling-in-the-sky-above-you/).