Old People Rule Number 3: Never allow unwanted facial hair to grow uninhibited.
I remember many years ago when I still had a full head of hair and only a couple wisps of grey, I was talking with my daughter. Suddenly her attention was drawn to the middle of my face. “Dad, do you know you have a long hair growing out of the end of your nose?” What? I said. I immediately went to a mirror. And there it was, every bit an inch long; my first rogue hair to show up on a part of my face where hair had never been before. And what was frightening, it seemed to appear over night. In the years to come, that would be the first of a multitude of hair follicles that for whatever reason made the choice to evacuate the areas they should grow, such as the top of my head, and migrate to facial territory uninhabited before. Now at 68 years of age I fight a continual battle with these rebellious invaders, a foe I refuse to surrender to.
I once had curly dark hair, but over time that was replaced by straight silver hair. At the same time of my color transformation, the top of my head began thinning, with a nice little circle towards the rear that resembles that of a Friar Monk. Along with this came other changes. A colony of hair moved in without invitation and began doing a wonderful job of growing from my nostrils and ears. In fact, they grew so profusely it’s as if they were inundated with Miracle Grow. My eyebrows also fell victim, though in their case it was just a few proud hairs which were obviously on steroids. These sprouts can almost be watched growing. But I am always ready, scissors in hand to meet them on every front! Unfortunately, I have seen senior men who obviously could care less about their invasion of hairs. One that comes to mind is a friend I have known since the 4th grade and graduated with.
I have no doubt that my old buddy’s sense of hearing and smell has to be hindered because of the thick thatch of hair sprouting from his ears and nose. And then there is his eyebrows. He has four or five hairs in each brow that are long enough to put a house cat to shame. I have no doubt that if he were blind, he could learn to use them as feelers to warn him of approaching obstacles. They are that long. This is not to mention a couple healthy sprouts jetting from the end of his nose. Each time I talk to him face to face I try valiantly not to allow my eyes to move to those locations, but it is of no use. The hairs seem to jubilantly dance with his every facial expression. On each occasion I always think the same thing: Forget about him not giving a shit. This guy is married. His wife is either terribly far sighted, or also no longer gives a shit. Whatever the case, I’ll say it again. If I ever arrive at such a point, just drive me to a remote location, shove me out of the car, drive away, and don’t look back!