Getting old sucks V1

I found a grey hair tonight.

Inside my fucking nose!

When the hell was someone going to tell me that you get grey hair everywhere? It’s not taught in public schools. I would have remembered that shit. Not in biology, history, or economics. NO WHERE in the classes that should teach you about grey hairs is it mentioned.

Oh…I’ve already wigged out about greys in my chest hair. I also had a tough time with greys in my pubics. And, don’t even get me started on where I’m growing hair now and how much of it there is.

But grey hairs in my nose?

Damn, I thought this shit would be easier on me.

“Why, Kyu, would getting old be easier on you?”

Well I’ll tell you, if you’d stop interrupting me.

I’ve got, what has been termed, the curse of the baby face. I didn’t have the pronounced jaw line that most of my troglodyte peers had in High School. For most of my life, people would mistake me for being 3 to 7 years younger than I was. Up until I was 27. No really.

When I was 21, I got into an argument with a liquor store clerk about my age. It was December of ’93, I was born in January of ’72…break out your calculators with me…that means that I had been 21 for 11 months. The asian clerk spent a good minute, minute and a half looking at me…then my license…me…my license.

“You not 21, come back next month.”

We argue a bit as I try to tell her how stupid she is and that I’m just a normal “of age” drinker whose looking to re-stock my wet-bar. With two 1.75L bottles of rum, a liter of vodka, two fifths of two different whiskeys, and a cold pack of Budweiser. Nothing weird or suspicious about that...right?

By then, a line had formed behind me and I was right at the point where my voice had risen to just below a scream. The manager came over and tried to rectify the situation. He looked at my license…at me...my license again as said:

“No…you no 21…come back next month.”

I made them find a calculator. I made them apologize to me and the 8 people behind me. I got $10 off my bill.

Back to my point…I look younger than I am. Well, I did for a good portion of time, until now.

I’m not freaking out about grey hair in general. What happens, happens, and I’m not going to cover it up with “Just for Men” or any of that other coloring like some middle-aged Al Bundy, pining for the good old days. If I go bald...I go bald...fuck it.

It’s life’s little DVD Easter Eggs that are throwing me off here. There will be more…I know…but, damn…grey nose hairs. That shit ain’t right.