I looked in the mirror this morning and there it was large and black balanced there near the end of my nose. What a nice black head I thought. Then I looked again in the mirror, more generally at myself and thought, I'm not sixteen anymore, that can't be a black head. I took stock of my present age, almost half a century, put my reading glasses on and looked again. With terror bordering on hysteria I realized, "Its a hair!!"
Reason eventually took over again and I examined carefully the burned out, worn out ground upon which this tender shoot of keratin was growing. How could anything flourish on such a wasteland of damaged derma. But there it was in all its black glossy glory growing like a weed. So I pulled it out.
HA! think how much better you'd have felt if only you hadn't put on your glasses....until someone at church pointed it out.
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