Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Too much time to ponder

Someone once told me the human body stops regenerating faster than it degenerates at around age 26. At that point, accelerated aging begins. It’s information like this that I don’t need complicating my life.

After back to back meetings all day long I had a bitch of a headache when I got home. I took off my tie and dress shirt and flopped myself across the bed. I stared up at the ceiling for about twenty minutes absently trying to figure out which tool they used to texture it when I realized I was fingering my own navel.

Of course, I probably wouldn’t have noticed had I not discovered a treasure of some sort. White lint. Cool. But that’s when I saw it. The bastard was growing just beneath my navel, buried in my Happy Trail.

What the fuck…?

I grabbed the insidious gray hair and yanked it. Little bastard was still rooted. I wiped my fingers on my slacks and grabbed it again. Shit. It came out but I think I felt it rip from my ass that motherfucker was rooted so deep.

I unzipped my slacks and lifted the band of my underwear up in case its comrades were within the underbrush. Big Jay, you alone down there? He stared up at me, his eye unblinking. I snapped the waistband back and headed to the vanity mirror, I being vain and all.

And there they were. Why had I not noticed them before? I turned from side to side, just in case the lack of a third dimension was playing tricks on my eyes. But sure enough, the ever so gentle bulge of pre-pubescent love handles was just beginning to overlap the waistband of my slacks.

Fuck.

I bounced up and down and watched them jiggle. Dammit! First a gray hair, now love handles. How are my pores? Are my pores larger? And what is that? That right there, the shadowy area, is that…hair coming out of my ears? No way. I leaned in. Do you have any idea how hard it is to see inside your own ears when you only have one mirror? I looked so much like Chucky I creeped myself out. I gave up on the ears and took a step back to look at the package known as Jay. Even my skin was looser than I remember it being. Which brought to mind, was anything else losing its grip?

I anxiously shifted Big Jay to the side and felt the familiar attachment one expects for this particular appendage. Relief washed over me. Still hanging on tight. I'm not dead yet.