Now, if it were up to me they'd stay right where they were. "Live and let live." I always say. As long as no harm's done. My lovely wife, however, has made it her personal campaign to fight the signs of aging tooth-and-nail and to the bitter end and, thus, has put Father Time on the top of her personal shit-list. In her ongoing battle, she has acquired certain practices and skills to aid in her "War On Time". She has developed a vigilant, undying resolve that keeps her ever on the lookout for any incursion old Father Time may attempt to make into our lives. She has even developed a ninja-like ability that grants uncharacteristic stealth and resourcefulness.
|Bring it, old man!!!|
To illustrate what I mean by ninja-like skill I'll give an example: There was this one time I was, only by pure luck, able to wake up to find her slathering some vitamin e extract "ninja brew" around my eyes to "...soften the skin and prevent wrinkles..." SHE'S BEEN DOING THIS TO ME WHILE I SLEEP! For how long? I don't even know. I'm scared.
As previously mentioned the appearance of gray on my scalp is very brief. Once these little buggers make an appearance, they stand out against the sea of jet black follicles they try to cohabitate with and, once they're spotted, they're gone. This is where her prowess excels.
The first instance was innocent enough. We were getting ready to go out and she said to me, "Is that a gray hair?"
Since I was looking in the mirror at the time I turned my head to see the side she was looking at, "Well, so it is." I replied causally, "Hmph.", and continued about the business of getting my tie to the right length.
At this point she got the tweezers and quickly plucked the lone rebel from the side of my head, "Not having that." - This would later become her battle cry, of sorts.
I'm not sure if was my protest at the sharp, sudden and unexpected pain I received or if it was my statement that this was a natural process of time and you couldn't fight it, but whatever the case, she decided to get clever after that.
Her level of skill became even more evident in a following instance: I was hunched over my computer, casually minding my own business, she was on the couch watching TV... Or so I thought. Without warning I, once again, felt that sharp, unexpected tug on my scalp followed by the newly adopted "NOTHAVINDAT!" battle cry.
I consider my peripheral vision to be excellent - superhuman, even - but she was able get up, go into the bedroom for the tweezers, return (which involved passing right behind me to get there and back, no less), stand behind me and grasp offending hair with tweezers (not to mention that she was initially able to detect a single strand of gray hair from about ten feet away). Impressive, you say? That's nothing compared to a time after that while we were watching TV together. She was sitting, I was lying down with my head on her lap - cozy, no.
"Ow!... What the hell!?! Are you carrying the tweezers around with you now?"
I believe her.
I should have suspected something earlier, though. The most obvious sign that I should have noticed was where she lived when we were dating. The house was at the top of a hill with these steep concrete steps leading up to this front door. Now that I think about it, that really does resemble an ancient Japanese temple.
It's eerie how similar this looks to the steps leading to my wife's home back then.
And there was the time...
Ow!... What the...!?! Oh, c'mon!!!