Not many people can guess my age. In fact, probably 95% manage to shave 20-25% off the course of my life. Of course, that's a good thing isn't it? Well, sometimes it is:who wants to be thought of as "old"? But at the same time, who wants to be patronised by people the same age or just a couple of years older? A few years back I sat through a lecture by someone (3-4 years younger than me) on how I would feel as I approached thirty. I listened to the reams of liquid turd spieling forth before informing him of my actual age and that his observations were quite far off the mark. Had he literally been blabbering excrement there would have been a rather unpleasant pool of it on the carpet, such was gape in his face.
It finally happened two weeks ago.
I have been observing, with no mild horror, the advancement of white upon my pate for 3-4 years. Sometimes last year it dawned on me that, unless I wanted several bald patches, I had best stop pulling out the annoying buggers as soon as they reared their twisty, course, periscopic selves. In addition, I decided that I had to endure their growth to a suitable length as I might be able to disguise them if they were long enough to lie down flat instead of standing to 90 degree attention.
I was waiting somewhat apprehensively as the day was sure to arrive.
"You"re getting paranoid" I told myself. The reason: some of the little gits at school would happily comment upon my ghostly fleece if it was really that visible.
Then it happened.
Not even from a git, but from a rather sweet girl, as I bent over to help her with her work, "Oh, she has lots of white hair" she observed, as much to herself as anyone else. My over-reaction ensured that the rest of the class spent the next hour trying to get a look.
"It was a one-off" I tried to tell myself. One week later another class, another (somewhat more spitefully this time) acknowledgement.
And today, yes today my woe has been a thousand times compounded........the appearance of my first white pube...........
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