and, with thin hair, it's a direct hit to the scalp. Of course, that means that my hair is clean and my scalp looks shiny. I've said this before, anyone who gets stranded in some forsaken spot with me will have a built-in "mirror" for signaling for help--the top of my head. We are certain to be rescued or burn a hole in the Van Allen Belt (not sure of the spelling on that one). Perhaps both.
Isn't it ironic that we start out life with wispy hair, a shiny noggin', no teeth, drooling volumes, round cheeks (on the face and on the posterior), fat thighs and a chubby tummy, and everyone thinks that it's cute. As we move into old age, we again find ourselves with all these physical attributes, but no one is smiling, telling us how cute we are and cheerfully wiping up the salivary spillage. Madison Avenue would have us believe that we have to stay trim, smart, fashionable, and that anything short of that is offensive to the world's sensibilities. Well, here's to offending the world. My hair is thinning. We've already discussed the alternative use of my head. My thighs aren't exactly thundering, but they definitely announce a change in the weather. My teeth are packing for a vacation. My cheeks and tummy are vying for the title, "Whose Balloon is Bigger". And I often wake up at night thinking I'm drowning, then discovering that I am a thimbleful of drool short of that fate. What goes around, comes around. Better put on your Wellingtons....
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2 comments:
Hahahahaha! Oh, that drool comment was funny.
Drooling is funny, unless you're an electrician, and then it's a liability...zzzzzzzzzt!
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