I have a problem.
Well, OK that opens us up to a friggin huge list of possible things ranging from being that I am as ugly as…erm…you…right through to the fact I am fairly confident that my ankles are shrinking.
No really, they are. I noticed the other day. There I stood in front of the mirror admiring *ahem* myself from differing angles and then I thought “Hey, I have girls ankles. Really skinny girls ankles at that.” And then I started trying to put my hand around them to see how small they really are. Then my wife came in the room and caught an eyeful of me. With my back to her. Naked. Bent right over grabbing my ankles, head near my groin saying “Tiny. Sooo tiny. What did I do to deserve this?”
“That time again already is it?” she asked.
My answer of “I was just measuring my ankle size!” was never really going to come across as a legitimate answer was it. And why would it.
But anyway. My problem. It is nothing to do with my impossibly small ankles. It is to do with men. Who may or may not have impossibly small ankles. A set type of man. One of those who is at least 55 years old and still has a head of hair.
Honestly. Have you ever looked around at a man who still has a full head of hair. It’s not thinning at all…and he is of the “older generation”. Granted, I am sure that like me, you don’t spend your day thinking “I really must stare at some older gentlemen today. Especially the silver foxes with their big heads of hair! Tasty!” but it is not all that impossible to miss either. Normally because they are sat next to some young girl on the train thinking he has a chance because he is part Musk Oxen and part Sea Otter. (As a side note, did you know the Musk Oxen pee’s on itself to keep warm? Just like an old person! Clever huh! Nature is an amazing thing.)
I have noticed them because when sat on a train, I can tell without seeing their faces who is an older man in any of the seats in my carriage.
How? You are realistically not asking, nor even really caring. But you read this far so are thinking that you should humour me fora while.
Well, they have the biggest hair in the world. I mean really…what the hell. Do us blokes get to a certain age and think “Heeeeyyyy…I have hair still. Let’s grow it ridiculously huge!”. It’s true. Look around and prove me wrong. See an older bloke and if he has hair, I guarantee (in bold, italics and underlined for effect. Sexy huh!) that he will have it brushed back in a way that you cant actually discount the possibility that their is a small family of birds living in there. Possibly even a squirrel. Therefore, as I sit there, I can see dotted around the carriage this telltale hairstyle. Waving in the wind like a herd of meerkat looking out for other meerkat.
They are goading us younger less fortunate “Why the hell did I end up with the Dad who was bald by 40” types.
And you know that they sit there looking around the train while in their heads are saying in some scary old man’s voice “Yeees…look at me. Look at my hair. Mesmerising isn’t it. I was going to get it cut but there is just so much of it, it makes me 4 inches taller when I blow dry it. And all you semi-balding types….you are weak. You have less hair. You are nothing. Worthless. Pathetic. Weak. But if you ask nicely….I will let you stroke mine!”
Huh…it’s been many years since an old man turned to me and asked if I wanted to stroke it. “It” was a ferret before you get any pervy ideas. Sure, the “ferret” had disappeared in his trousers and he asked me to retrieve it, but I wasn’t dumb. I knew the score. It would bite me, so I said no.
But you never see an older guy with a sensible haircut. That bouffant just gets bigger and bigger as they get older and older. I think it is some testosterone filled status thing between older men. There are three types of hair-man though:
Completely bald – Hey, I could have your hair…but I decide to shave it allllll off. Yeah, we believe ya.
Balding – aka ME. I want hair. I want the option of it at least. Sure I don’t want to bouff up anytime soon, but having the ability to say “Today I will mostly be growing my hair in a stupid way!” is still something that I would like.
Full head of hair – Scum. ’nuff said.
They really aren’t helping themselves. So I am going to help them. I am heading a new action group called Euthanasia for Big Hair. Yup, at a certain length at a certain age….we chop it. It will then be used to make hair for us less fortunates.
Like me. A semi balding 35 year old with ankles like a girl.
wheelturninghamsterdead.com 