When I Get My Braces Off, Just Hand Me My Dentures.

28 Jan

Gray is nature’s way of whispering “You’re dying.”

Geez. Just what I needed to hear.

Saturday, January 27, 2007…while washing my face I saw it.

In my hairline.


I thought maybe I was seeing things…I mean, my hair DOES have a few different shades in it…maybe it was just a lighter strand, but the S/O confirmed that old age had finally set in.

“I see it!” He said.

“No, no…I need to turn on a brighter light, you won’t be able to see it. Here…lemme…”

“No! I see it!”

Almost like a young child pointing out a zit on the tip of your nose.

“There! There! OMG! It’s hideous!”


In dim lighting, still lying in bed, half asleep…he was able to make out the ONE lonely short piece of gray in my hair.

I suddenly felt my back hunching, my teeth loosening, and my eyesight fading.

I wobbled back to the bathroom where I preformed a precision comb over that hid the gray and let me believe I was young again.

I poplocked back to the bedroom to make him a believer too.


The end.

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