Sitting on the flight this morning, I noticed something vaguely alarming. For some reason I was staring at the part of my arm located directly above my wrist (who says flying isn’t fun and exciting?) and I noticed it for the first time. What the hell? A burgeoning patch of LONG arm hairs about one inch above my left wrist. I’m not talking about a few randomly sprouting strays, I’m talking about the beginning of a full-on PELT! Further inspection – as much as could be legally performed on a fully loaded airplane – revealed my right upper-wristal area doesn’t have this tuft, just the left. This started me nervously wondering, is this a late after-effect of my recent spider bite, or just the continuation of a long, slow decline into furry mammalian old age?

I remember like it was yesterday that awkward growing-up phase in school when different bits started sprouting hairs. (There are some pictures of that happy time on this blog somewhere, but I’ll be damned if I’ll provide the link. Faithful Fifteen, you’re on your own!) Man, how I looked forward to the days when I could actually shave those few straggly whiskers, just like Dad! I even looked forward to cultivating some ‘pit hair’ which also meant looking forward to the joys of deodorant.

And now, stumbling down the path from youth to adulthood and ever onward, ever downward towards old(ish) age, I stopped and realized that this path also evidently leads to Wookie resemblance, something I’d never have imagined just a few short years ago. Now instead of looking forward to whisker removal, I have to inspect for grey hair plucking. Hairs that I used to wish for I now dread.

The worst part of the whole ‘getting old’ thing? I’d have to say, at least at this point, thinking about it

Damn it. Why wasn’t there an in flight movie today?

Author: frenchy