Her brother disputes her account of the color of said hair. He thinks that it is kind of blond. It could be, I have some reddish-blond highlights in my beard.
His assertion doesn't go over well with the dark haired beauty. She tells him that he is wrong and suggests that he get a flashlight to double check. Moments later two children are shining a light on the side of my head and comparing notes.
"Dad, you have a lot of hair everywhere but in the front of your head," he says. His sister concurs, but has some questions. "Abba, why do you have some space by your forehead and why do you only have one gray hair?"
I shrug my shoulders and tell them that before they were born I looked different. The dark haired beauty is quick to help, "you had really short hair and lines in your stomach." This time her brother decides to add, "ya dad, your stomach is a little round now."
Bless their little hearts. So glad that my children are so quick to point out all of my faults.
My fragile male ego is feeling a bit testy. I am not comfortable with all of these changes. Some of them are completely within my control and others less so. My diet has been lousy. For a while I have been on an eat and destroy mission. The good news is that I have been wildly successful. The bad news is that my success has manifested itself by making me look like hell.
It is my own fault. When some people are under stress they stop eating. Others take my approach and eat. So I am working hard to change the habit. I am impatient and wonder why I can't just blink the excess away. The good news is that I have been very consistent with my workouts. If I keep this up I will see results, provided that I cut down on the calories.
My hair is a different story. I haven't ever had a problem with gray hair and it is not because until now I didn't have any. I don't care what the color is as long as it is not pink or purple. The changes in the front have been a different story. I am not bald, not even close.
The back and sides are as full as they ever were. It is the front that has changed. It is definitely a bit thin. Nobody cares about it but me, but that is life. We are always our own worst critics.
I am standing inside my bathroom. It is the middle of the day and I am staring hard at my hair. I really can't tell if it is a gray hair, but I am assume that it is. In a few months I'll turn 41. Gray is appropriate, but then again I am not in any rush.
In the back of my head I remember someone saying that your beard goes gray before your head. I suppose that I could google it but I'd rather engage in a more practical approach. I haven't shaved in three or four days. I have a very healthy shadow coming in and I can't see any evidence of gray.
While I am engaged in this fit of vanity I decide to take a harder look at myself. I strip off my clothes and stand in front of the mirror. I laugh knowing that I am probably going to blog about this. The house is empty so I let out a barbaric yawp and assume a series of poses.
When I flex I can still see the cuts in my stomach. My arms and back still show signs of having been used for something more than hanging a shirt.
With a deep sigh I get dressed and exit the bathroom. Play time is over and work calls. I am still disappointed in myself, but make a promise to try harder. And with that I settle back into my chair and respond to emails. As I type I can see my reflection in the monitor. One little hair protrudes from the left side of my head. It is the instigator of all of this nonsense.
Somehow that seems appropriate. One wild hair, a renegade....