In between coffee breaks and water cooler conversation I find time to jot down a few notes. Sitting in a borrowed cubical I look around for distractions, something to slow my productivity. Personal photographs and pension plans provide me no pleasure. The voyeuristic aspect of my mind recedes into the gulf of my cerebral cortex. I am now faced with only one option, start working. I pull the ‘Bic Round Stick’ from my pocket, its black… I prefer blue. However I digress.
Looking down at the work sheet, my gaze is interrupted by
something dark and disturbing. There is hair on the back of my hand. The hair
doesn’t cover the entire dorsal surface; it affects the most medial aspect,
branching from my arm and radiating distally. The intruder has only infiltrated
part way up my hand, and has stopped short approximately 1 cm from the knuckle.
Some individuals are more representative of a sasquatch than
others. While I have no desire to return my integument back to its
pre-pubescent form, the notion of migratory filamentous
epidermal growths arising from the skin is somewhat disturbing. Living with my
body allows me to note slight changes in appearance and performance. The
reduction in cardio capacity can be viewed as a reciprocal integer of waist
size. Changes in shape and performance are seen as less intrusive because we are,
or at least perceive that we are, in control. I have no control over the resettlement
occurring on my hand.
Conversely, the changes occurring
on my head may be seen as adventitious. Migration patterns have not been noted
in the capitus region to date. However, like the changing autumn leaves, the
shade of my hair amends. These changes excite and stir dreams of grandeur from
within. I look at gray hair as sort of license or certificate, authorizing me
to be of repute.


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