A Few Possibilities
I’m not feeling particularly original, so I’m contemplating adopting a name from well-known example hair-dos. My choices at the moment are Bernie Sanders, Boris Johnson, and Albert Einstein.
This may represent a development series. I’ve already passed ‘The Bernie’ and heading for ‘The Boris’. If I don’t get a haircut soon, I’ll be look full-on like ‘The Albert’.
Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?
Of course, I do appreciate having hair. Some actually remains on my head – the rest now sprouts from my ears, chest, back, and tummy.
It’s got some perks as it continues to grow.
In a high wind, I could probably fly – like that old TV series about the Flying Nun with Sally Fields.
It keeps my head moist. Less sweat escapes from it.
It’s a trendy 2-tone – some remnants of old blond hair mixed with new, starkly white. The whiteness qualifies me to be a member of my weekly golf group – the WHOFs (White-Haired Old Farts). We have our own modified USGA rules. My favorite is the rule about hitting it out of bounds. No penalty, since the golf course was too cheap to buy enough land to where I hit it.
I’m going through shampoo and conditioner like they’re going out of style. The extra cost is incalculable. (That just means I’m incapable of figuring out how much.)
I have to readjust all my adjustable hats. As for the fitted ones … they’re all too small now.
I feel the need to come up with jokes on the spot whenever I’m mistaken for Larry David.
The wind resistance by my head is definitely noticeable. I’m sure this would slow down my 10K times if I were still foolish enough to run road races anymore.
That’s It for Now
Sometime soon Eve is going to insist I sit still in the back yard long enough for her to give me a trim.
Too bad. I was rather looking forward to emulating Einstein, if only in appearance.