I believe I have all the accouterments necessary to have a
somewhat normal face. I have two eyes,
ears, a nose, chin, forehead, and cheeks.
There are some mornings, I look at my face in the mirror
(usually while shaving) and think… wow,
what a handsome devil there, wonders you find yourself single, I should have
gone into movies, perhaps as the brother of Hans Solo in the Star Wars movies. Then other days: Who in the
hell replaced Hans Solo with Jabba the Hut in my mirror?
No, seriously! What
alien has switched my face with that thing worryingly looking back at me?
Likewise, my head.
When describing my head, I find it does not fit into any simple
category, such as that on web pages when looking for a pair of sunglasses, for
example. Triangular? Oblong? Round? Nope.
Nope. When trying to describe the
shape of my head structure, only one word comes to mind: Peanut. Yes, peanut.
A larger, rounded crown, a longer middle section, pinched in the middle,
and a rounded cheek area.
Jowls. Lord, save my soul. I have jowls.
Oh, not like John McCain-sorts of jowls, but enough for me to fear my eldest
years not to be my prettiest ones. You
know that big fish that’s in the movie Star Wars I (The Phantom Menace: Boss Nass)? Yeah, like that…
At the top of the peanut a mop-pet of hair that seems to
flow from a large hole in the top of my head.
No, really. Remember the
grow-hair Barbie’s they had back in 70’s?
I use that line in the litany of flirtations I often use
with the cute ladies that shear my locks at Fantastic Sam’s, my go-to barber of choice.
It’s possible I took my shameless - but harmless - flirtations
too far one day. A few years ago, I had
my hair shampooed by a rather… shall we say… well-endowed young woman. As she washed my hair in the basin, my face
turned towards the ceiling, she managed to rest one of her boobs literally on
my chin. I mean, if I opened my mouth… I
would have had a mouthful. There is no
way she did not know she was doing this.
(Dear Penthouse Forum:
I’ve never written into a magazine before…. )
The odd thing was I was not aroused by this at all. Quite the opposite, as I look back it was
more frightening than anything. Perhaps
just a little of what you ladies surely must endure with some of those more
aggressive members of my gender.
(Dear Penthouse Forum:
Errrrr.. never mind)
Where was I? Oh,
yeah..
Actually, I shouldn’t be complaining about my hair. I’ve been sorely reminded that many men my
age don’t even have hair, let alone a complete forest of such. I guess it’s true… the hair is always thicker
on the other side of the skull… er,
something like that.
Dale Fun Fact: My parents once told me that when I was born,
my skull had not completely grown correctly.
There’s even a scientific term for it: Craniosynostosis.
I cannot be completely accurate, but I believe the version I
had was:
Brachycephaly -
usually refers to bicoronal synostosis (both coronal sutures involved) and
causes the forehead region to be wide and high. The eyes may appear wide apart.*
My parents were understandably upset and took me to see
famed Pediatric surgeons in Madison:
ZaSu and Pitts (Or that’s what my dad called them… he was making a funny
regarding a silent film star ZaSu Pitts).
They righted my skull correctly and I grew up… fairly normal.
Thank Goodness! Otherwise,
I might have grown up to be a Republican! (Yeah, I still got it… ) Sorry, sorry, sorry...
In any case, the whole head assembly (Brainpan, ears, nose,
eyes, jowly cheeks, lips, mouth, unkempt hair, chin) is attached to the rather thick neck (which
will never be red, as long as I have rock music to listen to) and swivels to
and fro… depending on what it is that I’m watching at the present time. This is what God gave me, and I’m at times
both enamored and repulsed by the final results.
I’ve heard the expression:
By the time you’re fifty, you finally get the face you deserve. I like this maxim very much. It supposes that we are continually changing
and (hopefully) improving as we age. It
has a certain ring of truth to it.
I like my version better, though: As we learn wisdom, our face catches up to
the rest…
It may not be the face of an angel… but, the scars upon it
were well-earned.
*Source: PPSA - Pediatric Plastic Surgery &
Craniofacial Associates a division of Atlanta Plastic Surgery - dot com
