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Friday, May 18, 2007
A minor complaint about life:
I was looking in the mirror at the top of my head, and I noticed something unsettling: daylight. If I comb properly, I can sorta hide it because it's not to the point where it would require a true comb-over (and I'll just shave my head once I get to that point), but the hair is definitely thin, and not over a small part of that real estate. *whimper* So, now, I'm going to be browsing various hairpieces and other similar products. I'm thinking I'll get photos taken while I still have hair so that I can show any possible future generations that yes, I once had hair, and yes, it was a lovely color. Getting older is a bitch!
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3 comments:
Looking back at that day for myself I can't say I mourn for you.
Hopefully the process will raise your humility quotient.
Maybe it will also broaden your interpretation of what "good looking" is.
Perhaps I needed to broaden my definition of "good looking," though I already had a very broad definition already. And perhaps I needed yet another indignity to further humble me, though this is far more minor than other recent events. All I know for certain is that my hair is thinning, I think most of the stuff on the radio is "noise", I can't hear as well as I once did, and my joints ache, especially my bum knee. C'est la vie.
I have had my left knee repaired twice, and now my back, but only once did I ever try to repair (eliminate) the massive amounts of grey in my hair... and the results were so silly-looking I just gave up and learned to love all those white hairs on my scalp and in my beard. I don't have the thinning spot on top, but my hairline has receded a good inch in the last 5-10 years. When I look straight at myself in the mirror, I can "see a way into the trees" along the hairline. I'm headed for one of those widow's peak thingies that turns into an island of fuzzy patchy hair on the upper forehead, once the hair behind it starts to thin out... oh well. I promised my wife no comb-overs ever, so if it gets to the point where lots of people would just comb it over, I'll also do the shave-it-bald thing, for better or worse.
And by then, I probably really won't give a hoot. I have just about 90% convinced myself by now that I don't give a hoot about anything re. my body anymore besides keeping it as healthy as I can, keeping it alive, keeping it from smelling bad, and keeping it as pain-free as possible. Then again, I'm going to turn 50 (what I consider the REAL beginning of "middle aged") next month...
I finally realized several years ago that all those cute young women I was ogling were about the same age as my daughters, and that if any of them got to know me they would probably just equate me with their favorite funny uncles, or with their dads. Some of us just tend to grow up in different ways, at different rates. It can be bittersweet, but it's one of the joys and beauties of being human, I suppose!
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