Today I woke up and plucked a nose hair because it was too long.
Fuck.
There are two things I’m afraid of. One is bees. I got stung in the eye by one when I was five, and to this day will shriek like a little girl if one comes near me. The second thing? My dad’s body hair.
My dad is a hairy man. Very hairy. Like, if you saw him in the woods without his clothes on, you’d probably shoot him thinking he was a bear. And all my life I’ve been trying to dodge the Masercola curse–copious amounts of thick, jungle-like hair that all the men in my family are covered with. I mean hell, I’m taller than anyone in my family, paler, skinnier than most, have diabetes ( and no one else does), so chances seemed good that I’d manage to dodge this sucker.
No dice. Nose hairs are coming in. I used to have slight chest hair, now it’s trying to form a freedom bridge between my upper chest and my pubic hair. And worst of all, I’ve seen little sprouts start on my back–tiny little hairs popping out of my skin like warning shots, preparing me for the volley to come.
Lately I’ve been feeling old, and I think this is the step in me starting to look it. This also proves my dad wasn’t lying when he said that it wasn’t for a while after puberty that he started growing all his hair ( I just thought he was messing with me to keep me worried). But now it looks like I’ll fall victim to the Masercola hairiness, and with the Swanson baldness (their gracious genetic gift) around the corner, I gotta start enjoying the time before I become a furry half-man beast.
So yeah, kinda random, but worrisome. I’ll have some more writing ( game and creative) on here by the end of the week, cause I’m sure you don’t want any more descriptions of my genetic fears.
2 Cents Short of a Rent Check 