Manimal

 

Part man.  Part beast.  That’s what it comes down to.

This is what I am.  A manimal.

So just suck it up and accept it, right?

I am having trouble dealing with growing older.

Especially this hair thing.  Oh, I still have hair.  But as the years drag on, I find it growing in all the wrong places.  At an alarming rate!  (How the hell do I trim there?)

 

I have hair IN my ears that seems to grow overnight.  So I’m preening myself on a daily basis like a beagle.

Same for nose hair.  If I go for more than a week without a trim, you might think I snorted a kitten.  Inhaled a Furby while I slept.  And I have gray nose hair.  What’s that all about?  They say a touch of gray is distinguished but this isn’t what they had in mind.

Eyebrows?  Short of taking a weed wacker to my face, I try to keep them dethatched best I can.  God forbid I get the ‘hoot-owl” look like so many old men.  They too seem to grow overnight.  I wish one could bottle that growth factor.  It would put Rogaine out of business for sure.  It was deflating the first time a hair stylist asked if I wanted my eyebrows trimmed.  But when you hit 50 years old, it becomes part of the protocol.  Required by law.

 

The hair on my dome is a whole ‘nuther chapter.  

My 30s were hell on my hairline in terms of loss.  I entered remission during my 40s.  But now mid-way through my 50s, it is back with a vengeance.  I have global warming of the scalp.  Thinning of the hair herd.  My forehead will soon be double digits.

Hair seems to be falling out of my head…settling…and taking seed elsewhere on my body.  Now I know why they call it “Head & Shoulders” shampoo.

Holy crap.

Arms, chest, belly, back…tops of my feet?  WTF!

 

Scientists are looking for the “missing link?”  Well look no further than me.

I could be the stunt double for the Geico caveman.

I tread lightly during bear season.

At the zoo, gorillas look at me and say “How’d you get out there?”

 

It’s not easy being a hairball.

Part man.  Part beast.  A manimal.  That’s me.