To give myself illusion that I'm not aging, I've been camouflaging my hair for the past couple of years with "a touch of gray hair dye for men". Of course, it's obvious that when the Demon of Old-Age sees my unnaturally youthful looking locks, he doesn't pass me by. If that were the case, I wouldn't be this constant target for his liver-spots spitballs.
In any case, for the past couple of years, I haven't looked too bad. I've had just enough gray for that distinguished look – old enough to look like I might know what I'm doing and young enough to look like I won't be retiring anytime soon (very important quality for those job interviews).
This all changed a couple of days ago when I reapplied my anti-aging camouflage. My graying strands of hair weren't just touched, they were body-slammed out of existence. By the time I stepped out of the shower as a final step in this vain process, a dark fur encased my scalp. My hair was so dark, the room dimmed as my blackened follicles sucked all the light out of the surrounding area.
Have you ever had hope in obviously stupid thoughts? Thoughts such as "maybe my ex will be reasonable," or “maybe they will drop my income taxes to only 10%.” As I walked through the main doors of my job, my ludicrous thought was "maybe no one will notice." I soon learned that "notice" was an understatement.
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