Niplash
February 3, 2005
My hair is now officially receding. This will likely set forth some terrifying chain of events in my life, starting with Soundgarden being added to the “classic hits” FM stations as of tomorrow.
Although, granted, I’ve had a bit of problem with hair from the word go. I’ve never been able to grow hair on my chest (I blame the gay genes). I’d been expecting some sort of wild, bushy pube-esque growth on my torso the second I turned 25, but that didn’t eventuate.
Perhaps I should clarify that I don’t necessarily want chest hair. It’s just comforting to know that I’m capable of sprouting it in the first place. It’s like being reassured that your car can reach 200km per hour, even though you won’t necessarily ever drive it that fast.
Tragically, although I can’t progress to chest hair, I’m definitely fertile when it comes to niplashes (nipple eyelashes).
I sure hope other guys get niplashes and I haven’t just revealed another extremely dysfunctional part of my body. (Is it kosher to shave off your niplashes? Where’s the manual to all this?)
No chest hair by age 20 is passable. No chest hair by age 25 is worrysome. No chest hair by age 30 is an indicator that your hormones are having a leadership crisis on the level of the Labor Party. If there’s nothing happening by that stage, I’ll have to start sticking hair from my head on other parts of my body, like that Beavis and Butthead episode.
Holy fuck, now I’m even quoting Beavis and Butthead, in context. I really am getting old.
[Update, 20 minutes later: I want you to know there was almost a picture of my niplashes on this entry, but there's not. I thought of the children.]
