Every time I get a haircut, I check my hairline as if I'm a surgeon in the operating room. And no matter what, I ALWAYS think it's receded. Michelle keeps telling me it's not, but I don't know if I trust her. I think she just doesn't want to listen to me bitch about it anymore. I'm 25. I know people who have started going bald earlier than 25. Ok, I'm paranoid, whatever. I've had this conversation with my friends and with Michelle, and there's something about being 25. It feels like it's the official age where you go from being "I saw this kid on the subway" to "I saw this guy on the subway."
One fun thing to do is to ask a little kid how old they think I am. If you ever ask a 7 year old kid how old you are, they will always say 10 years older than you really are. It's funny, because at first, you're like, Haha, no DUMMY, I'm not 35, hahaha. But then later on, you start questioning the kid's judgment. Maybe he's right. Maybe I do look 35. I need to start exercising again. Maybe their innocent view on life and old people is correct.
I've thought it was pretty damn funny that Michelle has pulled gray hairs out of her head and eyebrows for a while now. And what makes it better is that I didn't have any. Not one. Until now. I spotted a little gray bastard on my face. Not even in the beard region, he was outside the lines. But still, it was blatant.
When I brought it to Michelle's attention, her reaction was, "Yesssss!" Then, *plink*, she yanks it right out of my face. Which I think made it even better for her. Now, both of us, at 25, have had gray hairs. I blame it on being married. She blamed hers on planning a wedding. While we were planning our wedding, Michelle was so stressed that her hair was actually falling out. We have Meeche Tumbleweeds every once in a while, but this was like pulling hampsters out of the lint trap.
THEN...I was laying bed on Saturday morning and she was trying to drag me up to go get coffee, and she gasps. "Uhhhhhh!" Kind of like that loud inhale noise you make right before you rear end somebody on the highway. She goes, "Is that, is that a gray hair?" There was such excitement in her voice, it was sickening. She has to run and tell her parents, so I get laughed at by them.
Then I'm getting out of the shower, and Michelle is drying her hair. She says, "Do you want me to dry your gray?" Yes, Michelle, please dry my gray. That will make me happy.
I also can't sit cross legged anymore. Actually, my nephews call it criss cross applesauce. Maybe that's what they're teaching them in school these days. So I can't sit criss cross applesauce for more than 5 minutes. I try to get up and it's like my leg muscles have forgotten how to work. I played wiffleball with them a few weekends ago, for about an hour. I had a sore shoulder for the next two days from throwing a wiffleball to a 7 and 11 year old.
Another thing I can't do anymore is stay up for Late Night. I can't tell you how excited I was when Conan O'Brien finally got the Tonight Show. I can't remember the last time I saw Conan's show. I just recently realized that Jimmy Fallon was the new host of Late Night.
I think having a job, a mortgage, a wife, and a dog have really turned me into a grown up. I'm very afraid what will happen when we throw children into the mix.