Hair’s The Thing…
Spouse Thingy is on leave this week, so we’re doing the togetherness thing. You know, sit around the house, then go to the gym together, then bowling together. Maybe fishing if the weather warms up, a movie or two. And I want to go to the Newport Aquarium just outside of Cincinnati sometime this week.
Today, after we hit the Y for some swimming (ok, I walked in the water) for an hour, we went for haircuts. To different places. Whilst I got mine cut at Supercuts, he sat and read his book. While he got his cut at the BX barber shop, I sat in the food court and scribbled notes for the chapter I’m working on.
[As an aside: if you cut hair professionally, please give your customer the cut they ask for, not the one you want them to have. I’ve had 3 haircuts since we got here and have not yet had one I wanted.]
So in all this together, we go for haircuts. And in all this togetherness, we discover something neither of us really wants to know.
We’re both getting very, very gray.
I looked down, and my little plastic cape (or whatever they call it, the thing they make you wear while they cut your hair) was covered with snippets of brown and gray. Waaaay too much gray.
After Spouse Thingy came out of the barber shop, I realized that, while his bald spot is much, much smaller thanks to the Proscar, his hair is about half and half now.
This was not supposed to happen.
We were supposed to stay 25 forever.
It’s the Boy’s fault, it has to be.
It certainly can’t be from anything I ever did…!