I'm extremely follicularly challenged. I have been since college.
Fair-haired, near a red-headed step-child, my hair loss was more the obvious for it.
My dad, a fellow member of the follicularly challenged team, used to try and coax me into applying the ol' trusty comb-over, something that fooled no one. But I just couldn't do it. No more than I could wear my pants up to my nipples, another strange peccadillo of my Dad's. But I digress.
Anyway, I said the hell with my hair loss, embraced it fully. I shaved the donut of hair off. Slick as a baby's bottom and proud of it.
I was just fine with it. Even got compliments. At Walmart of all places, some fellow baldist asked what I waxed my head with to get such a sheen. I said, "Um...sweat?"
But then Fate, the quirky, mean ex-girlfriend that she is, decided to play with the status quo.
Recently I woke up with a single black hair poking out of my ear.
Not only have I never had black hair, but now I had a strong, sharp wire growing out of my ear lobe! Huzzah! A miracle! Better than pizza slices that resemble Jesus.
What if I turned into a human porcupine, prickly black hairs sticking out everywhere? May as well sign up for the traveling freak show now. Or I might transform into a Chia headed creature, something out of a '50's horror film!
With my fair complexion, I'd probably look like a freaky Bond villain.
(Me: "You see, my dear Mr. Bond, it's my intention to unleash my porcu-hair bomb onto an unsuspecting world!"
Bond: "Not if I have anything to say about it, Prickly-Ear!"
Me: "Oh, shut up, Connery! Everyone knows you wear a toupee!")
Bah. Hair's overrated.
For even stranger aberrations, click here for my newest book, Peculiar County.