Man…I’m only 33, but one look at the curly stuff below the neckline and you’d think I was ready to collect social security. Next thing you know I’ll be forgetting things and talking about how young’uns dress funny.
If I take my shirt off (not a pretty sight) I look as if I have spilt talcum powder down my front. Oddly enough, that is the only place where I have gone particularly grey: the hair on my head (what’s left of it) and, er, elsewhere remains largely the same colour as it always was. And I’m forty-six.
Good to know. You and my Ukranian hairstylist. She always says: “gray hair very sexy, like scar. Scar very sexy.”
I don’t quite track on the scar fetish (and I do have a couple), but I still appreciated the vote of confidence.
It’s funny, because the handful of gray hairs on my head - right around the temples, where you’d expect - don’t bug me. But for some reason having so many on my chest seems somehow…just…wrong.