I like to think of myself as a young, hip Dad. I still wear band t-shirts. I love my white Lacoste sneakers. I like Drake and The Stills equally.
Even with the responsibility of being a Dad, I’ve been comfortable with the thought that I am still a kid, even if it’s only at heart.
That is, I felt this way until I found “it.” A hair. A long hair. Coming out of my upper earlobe.
My initial reaction was horror. You know in the Godzilla movies, when all of the people on the ground look up in fear and point at the giant monster standing before them? I immediately began to wonder how many of my friends, colleagues and complete strangers have at some point seen this hair and had that exact same reaction (internally, I hope).
I also wondered how my wife failed to see this thing… anyway…
While the temptation was strong, I resisted the urge to name the hair. I often name unwanted body ailments, such as Cornelius the Christmas Cold Sore from 1998. But naming it would make things personal. And I felt it innapropriate to name something that I was about to relegate to the floor of my bathroom.
So I reached for the razor, and with a quick stroke, it was gone.
But my self-consciousness remained.
The arrival of this hair forced me to come to terms with all of the other signs of aging that have struck me lately. Losing my glasses. Repeatedly. Losing my work pass. Repeatedly. Losing my metabolism. Permanently?
I suddently felt more like crotchety old Archie Bunker than cool, suave Will Smith. Those were the days.
I looked down at the hair on the floor and sighed. I have ear hair now. Next stop, coke-bottle glasses, a walker and suspenders.
As I wollowed in my own self-pity, I heard something. It was Pea. She was calling me, to come play with her.
Hearing her voice instantly brought me out of my funk. She makes me feel like a kid again and she doesn’t (seem to) care if I have a long, single hair growing out of my ear like some mutant Marvel comic character. I am still her Dad, she still wants to play with me, and I don’t have time to worry about my appearance. I have to be a Dad.
If I focus on that, everything should be a-ok.
Besides, there is a bright side: should there come a day when we lose one of her Barbie heads, she can always braid my copious ear hair.
Now, I can’t be the only one out there who has come face-to-face with an unfortunate sign of aging. Let me know when you first realized you weren’t a kid anymore… please… please? There’s catharsis in sharing awakward physical characteristics with the world, trust me!
PS – was the ear-hair-braiding remark too much? I feel it may have been too much. Yeah, it was probably too much.
PPS – playing with Pea tonight, I threw out my back. For the first time in my life. Wow.
PPPS – yes, the hat I’m wearing in the photo says “Sensational Senior.”
Does anyone else grunt incessantly when they pick up or put down their child? And Pat, what did your dog say when you tried to put your foot up its…
I just don’t have the time or emotional strength to list all my signs of aging but wanted to at least thank you for the laugh – awesome post! 🙂
I developed these horrible lines across my forehead. You know, the one’s that Gordon Ramsey has. My kids are completely obsessed by them and stare at them all the time. I have discovered that if I wear my hair in a tight ponytail they almost disappear.
I have also noticed that I am not as flexible as I once was. The other day I was cleaning under my kitchen sink, when I tried to get up I was in a tremendous amount of pain.
Oh well. I guess I need to get bangs, and stop cleaning.
Actually, the braiding remark kept me laughing for the last 5 minutes! Go big or go home (I’ve actually just proven how old I am by using that phrase).
I have loads of the wonderful physical signs of aging: gray hair, slowed (who am I kidding, more liked halted) metabolism, inopportune back spasms (is there really an “opportune” back spasm?!?), but the one thing that cemented my old status for me was when I paid a babysitter for the first time. I vividly remember being 15 years old & thinking that these people I was babysitting for were ancient. Mind you they were 35 & had 10 yr olds, not 5 & 2 yr olds like me. From that point on my youth was a distant sign that I couldn’t read even if I wanted to!!
Jen, your sheet-face remark….classic!! Our skin just doesn’t pop-back like it used to!!
Ear hair, stray eyebrows on your chin….mistaking the dog for you slippers….its all part of life.
Oh no you di’int. You used Will Smith as your cool reference? Man, you are old! 😉
I first noticed that I wasn’t so young anymore when I started feeling rollercoasters a lot more a few years back. I used to rush off and get right back in line, but nowadays I’m lucky to convince myself to get on. More recently, I’m reminded of the fleeting years by the unannounced back spasms. Actually, those only started after giving birth. Oh well, they still make me feel old!
Having my first kid was definitely the event that’s so far made me feel the oldest. It also seems like time is going by faster now too. *sigh* If getting old is the price I pay for becoming a Mom, it’s totally worth it!
I woke up the other day with a sheet mark on my face. It was still there an hour and a half later. Man I’m old 🙁