Hairs

I remember my first grey hair. I was 30 years old and one day, whilst looking in the mirror, there it was, almost smiling at me announcing its arrival.
I’ll be honest, I was not best pleased to see it because rather like an alien invasion I knew more would follow.
But to be fair, I got off lightly and besides a few grey hairs here and there my 30’s remained relatively grey free, certainly not enough to bother me.

But by the time I turned 40, we moved into clump territory. Yes, indeed, the grey hairs had started to form communities and they were beginning to establish their colonies. One side of my head was particularly favorable to them.
However, this year, at 41, I have noticed the greys are now out of control and I can no longer ignore them. My latest strategy is the cut my hair short, really short, then I don’t have to look at them but I don’t really like the army-style haircut. I’m not at the stage where I need to dye my hair but I know it’s only a matter of time before I have to begin my research into the world of hair dye or embrace the silver fox look, which can look good on some guys but I don’t know if that’s me.

I really don’t see the point in grey hairs other than to announce to the world that you’re getting old. Some say you should celebrate the grey but I’m not convinced, especially as I find myself at 41 single and unsettled. Perhaps if you’re content and have everything in place, keeping up appearances isn’t such a big deal but in my position, I feel obliged to hang on to the last drips of my youth as long as I can. I realise though the war is lost, it’s just a matter of time.

Speaking of head hair, I have faired better than many of my friends who are greyer than I and also bolder. Boldness is even scarier for me. I have big ears and try as I might to conceal this obvious feature, a bold head would only highlight my predicament. Thankfully I have been blessed and although the inevitable depopulation of my head hair is beginning with that thinning out reclining look, I trust I’m grand for a few years yet. I’m guessing my 50’s have been reserved for this particular chapter of ageing.

Which leads me back to what followed in my mid 30’s and that’s the arrival of new hairs in odd places. Now we have rogue hair syndrome.
For me, it started with one rogue hair that likes to grow in the middle of my forehead. This particular one is rather cunning in its attempt to exist. It’s so fine, I rarely see it. Only the other day I was engrossed in some rather detailed hair maintenance when I suddenly noticed this little fucker. It must have been 2 cm long sticking right out of my forehead. How on earth had I not seen it! One must admire its rather astonishing ability to go unseen. It’s so remarkable perhaps I should give it special status and name it.
There’s another rogue that likes to grow out of one of my shoulders. The question is where did they come from? Why are they here? What is their purpose?
They’re not even grey! Why suddenly start growing one single hair out of your shoulder or forehead from your mid-thirties for no particular reason? It’s most bizarre.

And finally, I must tell you about something we should all fear….. Nostril and Ear hair.
These ones are particularly ugly and the nostril hairs are painful to remove. And as we know, the more we remove, the more they come back next time.
Ear hair! Now, what is the point in that? It’s frankly ridiculous and I’m going to research a new weapon to tackle them…. hair remover cream.

It’s only a matter of time before technology and science make grey hair, rogue hair and balding a thing of the past but sadly I suspect my generation will be too late to enjoy such advances. Ah, the joys of ageing!

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