Little patches sprout out from the tops of both ears… Four or five really long dark hairs show up, seemingly overnight. And then there’re a few inside that’re almost impossible to see so I just nip at them with tweezers until I grab onto something and yank…
Yeah, I know, I don’t have to groom my ears, I guess. Lots of guys don’t. I see them on the train, in the seat in front of me or standing next to me when we’re waiting to leave: thick, black hair poking out of their ears like sea anemones. They don’t seem to care that there’re two fuzzy caterpillars hugging both sides of their heads. Why should I? I should embrace my newfound growth.
There’s a guy in India who set the world record for ear hair at five inches… He’s no slacker, of course, so he kept growing it ‘til it reached almost ten.
But ear hair is only part of my overall hair maintenance patrol. I’m on eyebrow watch pretty much continuously. That’s been going on for a couple of years. If I don’t hack those back, I get very Scorsese very quickly.
Small patches of hair have shown up on my back, too. Not a lot. I’m not one of those guys you see in the summer at the local public pool, shaved to the collarbone, looking like they’re wearing a fur t-shirt. I’ve just got tiny patches. Ten or twenty little hairs I have to twist up like a pretzel, back to the bathroom mirror, to reach with a razor.
So, yeah, the hair that’s slowly leaving my head is migrating south.
I wonder what happens if I get so old and feeble that I lose the ability to reach various areas of my body. What happens when it all sprouts back like weeds in a vacant lot? I’ll be this fuzzy hairball, a not so cute Tribble, a Fabulous Furry Freak Brother…
Keep on pluckin'.