At age forty-three, I have been put into bifocals. As the doctor was telling me this, he saw the panic in my eyes and said to me, “Don’t think about this like it’s happening because you are getting old…just think about it like you have been really hard on your eyes and they are worn out and need some help.”
Whatever, you young little shit.
In my depression after finding this out, I decided I needed a cheeseburger, like a really greasy one and some fries and a milkshake too. *DO NOT JUDGE ME!*
I got home with my heart attack in a sack and went to town. After a few bites, I thought I felt a hair in my mouth.
GROSS, I am never going there again.
I was feeling around in my mouth, but couldn’t feel it there anymore. I took the burger apart and saw nothing. Weird. I slapped it all back together and commenced with eating my depressed feelings.
Son of a bitch! There’s that hair again!
Again, I took the burger completely apart…I still didn’t see anything…I was feeling around in my mouth and I didn’t feel the hair anymore, but I was feeling extremely crazy.
I took another bite. I felt the hair again. I just froze. A thought suddenly occurred to me. I slowly walked to the bathroom without chewing any further and leaned into the mirror.
There growing out of my upper lip was a blonde hair that was so long it could reach just inside my mouth. I dropped my burger on the floor and started screaming from the shock of it all.
How long has that been there???
What a bunch of shitty friends I have for not telling me I have a wild hair growing out of my face!
Bifocals and now this…I might as well go shopping for my funeral arrangements tomorrow.
The very best part of this story is it took me an entire hour to find the damn hair again in order to pluck it out because my bifocals wouldn’t be ready for two weeks.
Getting old really sucks.