(Prior posting from my old webspace)

Well, close to a month into my forty fourth year, I am seeing the world in a very different light.

I looked into my mirror after my shower today, and have taken note that my beard is now covered in frost. I am not sure what brainchild decided that silver grey mixed well with dark blond, but they ought to be taken outside and made to cut their own switch!

After contemplating doing the Willy Mays (RIP) “Black Hole Of Calcutta” Just for Men hair “tint” so I could look as if I’m desperately clinging to my departed youth, I made a decision to just leave the wreckage the way I found it. After all, suddenly sporting a shoe polished beard isn’t going to restore any sparkle to my now faded youth. It just serves to make me look foolish, and I, my friends, look plenty foolish enough on any given day without the aid of a twelve dollar tube of elixir!

So, then the apprising (and rapidly weakening) eyes surveyed my hair. Well, surprisingly that is still intact. And typically, it’s now once again growing into the dreaded pompadour. Ahhh I guess I have nothing to complain about I suppose. At least it’s sticking around. Most guys my age are either shaving off what’s left, or teasing over the bald spots.

So, then I take a look at my eyes. Well, they’re still in their sockets. And that’s a good thing. Problem I have is what is happening to the surrounds on those sockets. Sweet Lord of Jehovah, when did I develop foreskin for eyelids? Where did the steamer trunks come from, and who gave them permission to park themselves under my once smooth lower lids? And why on earth are there whiskers growing out of my eyebrows? I wish I was kidding. I could curl these things, they’re so long.

I’ve learned to be VERY careful when cutting them. It’s easy to miss entire chunks out of your eyebrow. I for one, do not need that “cool” Vanilla Ice look of shaving stripes into my eyebrows. But for some odd reason, every time I try to take a whisker down, I unwillingly sport this new look.

What’s next.. Tintin hair? Great, I wanna look like every other guy!

LOL.

So, I then move further north, up to my once smooth forehead. Like the rest of the relief map of Zimbabwe that once was my youth kissed skin, my forehead has become cavernous, with enlarged pores, dents, dings, ripples, wrinkles, creases, crevasses, etc. I now want to do as Kylie Minogue has obviously done, and show home movies on my forehead with all sorts of B O T O X!!!

I’m not sure how I feel about injecting botulism into my face, but honestly, anything has to be better than looking like I was beaten with a bag of nickles!

Then I head down to the dreaded southern hemisphere. This is where the worst of the damage resides.

I had a chest. During my fortieth year, it morphed into moobs. Now, sadly enough, they’ve become plain old titties!

I saw a guy on “The Man Show” that had implants put in as a dare and a bet. He showed everyone his hooters. Sadly, his C cups aren’t that far from mine. Is there no end to this?????

I then head to my healing stomach. I had surgery in August, and note how slow THAT hair is growing back. Funny, the fat seems to grow real quickly. For that matter, hair is growing out of almost all my orifices now, at an alarming rate. I can’t shave my inner ears or nostrils quickly enough to keep up with the growth.

UGH!!!

And to make things worse, I’m actually growing hairs off the tip of my nose. All I’m missing is the bloody wart and a young girl from Kansas to harass to complete the look!

So, upon closer inspection of all the crevasses and canyons that have taken up residence on my once firm male form, I decided to look at what was good.

I see clearly
I think clearly
I am directed
I am more focused
I am more self assured
I am nicer
I am calmer
I am wiser
and.. I like who I am.

So, to bring this sordid passage to a merciful ending…

My youth may have an expiration date, but there is no way I’d ever wish it back. Things on this side of forty are far too good to ever trade “looks” for experience.

I like me, and despite what gravity and decay are doing to me, what’s inside is cooler than I could possibly imagine, and if this is the price I have to pay, I’m glad to surrender the cost of admission.

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