mid-life hair fear?

how and when did that happen?

The puddles were smaller this morning than yesterday afternoon. Onced fully covered trails now had slick little edges of drying mud. My tires chewed it up like a chubby toddler on a chocolate cake throwing this silty sensation straight up my back.

Splattering off the back of my helmet, I could feel little lumps land behind my collar. They’d slowly force their way between my shoulder blades eventually ending up as a little brown non poo lump in between my butt cheeks.

Have you ever traveled thirty kilometers on a bike with a lump of silt in between your butt cheeks? If you have, you know the joy. If you haven’t, I can guarantee that you want to try this. You must try this. Especially if you are a particularly hairy human.

It may have something to do with aging, but I find hair in the most surprising places these days. As a man in his fifties, I’m never surprised or shocked by hair on other people. People can be as ape like as they like. I fear my own hair.

It’s not like my hair actually scares me. It’s more of a when the fuck and how the fuck situation.

when the fuck and how the fuck?

Is it just me?

Do you have an experience when you look at your body - maybe it’s more of a hands based inspection. You know, you’re touching yourself. Exploring creases, gaps, folds and such.

You know. Places that are mostly moist at this time of year.

That’s when it happens.

You find some big, thick, long, grey hair in some random fucking place that you’ve never really had a hair before.

The ground of reality dissolves.

What was once familiare now becomes strange.

You experience the sensation of falling.

This is an unexpected hair.

You then likely begin to spiral in panicked thought:

When the fuck did that grow there?

You wrack your brain - how did you miss a hair like this?

And then?

If I missed something this friggin’ brush like and obvious, what else am I missing that they aren’t saying - Is there something wrong with my head? Do I have a big fucking distorted Picasso head and they’re not telling me? Do we all go through life with big, strange distorted Picasso heads that we all can see as plain as day but really don’t want to acknowledge so we don’t tell each other about the mutant horror show we’re living in…

how the fuck did I not notice?

This is the kicker. This is when the floor leaves.

Expectations generally don’t move. When they are removed, you move.

And when you realize that you grew a two inch long cats whisker somewhere behind your ear without noticing the growth, the impact can be very unsettling.

Have you noticed any ‘odd growth’ lately?

When did you start to change?

How did you miss the signs?

Pluck the hair if you need to.

Or,

Become a hairy old bastard like me.