I am not a particularly vain person.
Seriously - I’ve given it some thought, and can honestly say that I am not. It is true that on the few rare occasions when I’ve received compliments on my looks I did get warm and fuzzy feelings, but most of the time, I give little or no thought to my appearance at all.
Since I retired, I only shave when Honey tells me to, and I’ve been known to leave the house with my hair uncombed and wearing old and grungy clothes. Of course, that’s usually for a trip to Wal-Mart where I know I’ll fit right in.
This happy-go-lucky attitude about my looks has recently been shattered by a symptom of old age - a single hair!
It is brilliant white. It’s long and wiry, and it shoots out of the middle of my right eyebrow. When it first appeared, I hunted down the tweezers and pulled it out, but a few days later it - or one just like it - was right back, standing out like a neon sign in the middle of the Sahara.
I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it does. Every time I look in the mirror, it ticks me off.
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