May 20, 2013
Written by Joe Pisani
Friday, 04 May 2012 12:25
My oldest daughter, who never fails to brighten my day, came home to visit recently. Usually, the first thing she does is rush to the refrigerator, but this time she paused, stared at my face and announced, “You have two gray hairs on your left eyebrow and they’re curly! You need to pluck them. Do you want me to do it?” Then, she promptly opened the refrigerator and took out the leftover pork fried rice.
I wasn’t sure why I “needed” to pluck them. Do curly gray eyebrows lead to joint deterioration, impotence, job loss? And I certainly didn’t want her to do it because I knew I’d lose two curly gray hairs along with one brown eyeball and possibly an earlobe.
Needless to say, I crept upstairs to the bathroom to check out the situation. She was right. There they were, as glaring as a pimple on the tip of my nose. I had to find a tweezer fast before they spread.
What would have happened if she hadn’t told me about those curly gray hairs? My professional career, or what’s left of it, would collapse, and my high school would probably send back my annual donation of $22.95.
Anyway, I performed the nasty procedure, which caused more pain than I expected because those curly gray hairs were really wedged in there. Ouch, ouch and ouch again. The puppy heard my agonized cries and started to howl.
How do women endure all that pain? They’re obviously built differently than men. (Women I know often remind me they were created to withstand pain, most especially childbirth, husbands, sons, and bikini waxing.)
I returned downstairs, satisfied that no matter what happened to the economy, I could find a job at a nail salon, plucking eyebrows to pay for dentures I’ll eventually need and to keep my daughter well supplied with pork fried rice.
She looked at my eyebrows and gave me a dose of positive reinforcement. “Good job!”
Then, she asked, “Do you have smoke detectors in the house?”
“About seven,” I said. “Why?”
“I dreamt you died in a fire.”
Could I possibly make this stuff up? So much for my career at the nail salon. Did she have to share that nightmare with me? Couldn’t she dream that I won Lotto? Where’s Sigmund Freud when we need him?
I no longer cared if my eyebrows turned gray; I just wanted to be around to see them.
Is this what fatherhood is about? You spend years trying to get your kids on the straight and narrow, hoping they end up to be decent human beings, and all they can think about is your curly gray eyebrows, food in the refrigerator and your untimely demise.
Fatherhood doesn’t get easier. Just when you think you can coast a little and pursue a new career as a beautician, it all comes tumbling down.
This morning while I was shaving, I noticed three more gray eyebrow hairs and they’re curly. It hurts to pluck them so I’ll just color them with my Sharpie ... after I change the batteries in the smoke detectors.
|< Prev||Next >|