Year of the White Hare
A couple of weeks ago, I bumped into Mark Latonero on the No. 38 bus. We were on our way from Angel to Holborn when he decided to share some breaking news in his friendly American drawl.
Mark:"Hey so you know what, I had a mid-life crisis the other day!"
Alicia:"A mid-life crisis? Mark, we're the same age, what the heck are you talking about?!! Life expectancy -even for men- is much higher these days you know."
Mark:"Well, I looked at myself in the mirror and found one grey hair!"
Alicia's inner voice:"Wah piang eh ..."
So that won him an ice-cold Deathstare at 10.30 on a Monday morning. And before I could follow through with some powerful Elbow-Meets-Rib action, the bus pulled -and kept pulling, as bendy buses do- up to my stop and I had to hop off in haste.
I have a bittersweet relationship with my burgeoning crop of white hair. It was bound to happen at some point, given my advancing age as well as pure genetics. My late father's pate went salt-and-pepper (bucketful of salt, pinch of pepper) when he was an undergraduate, or so I've been told. So these hairs of heredity (which make me an heir of hairidity, ha!) are a natural, albeit small, reminder of what made me Me.
I reckon though that these silver strands, still largely outnumbered by their robust coloured brethren, have expansionist ploys afoot. When Ste and I were out with the JC gang last weekend (commemorating Melvin Liew's London visit and INSEAD rugby triumph), I took the opportunity to get some objective feedback on my rapidly greying tresses.
Ramesh:"Wah! You really DO have a lot of white hair! When did that happen?"
Michelle:"The day I get a white hair will be the day I shoot myself!"
Hmm. The truth be told, I've made a casual decision to go grey - first, out of sheer curiosity, and second, to hopefully develop my (hitherto non-existent) gravitas.
Now how does one cultivate the formidable Indira streak, which has a presence all its own? Knowing my luck, any experimentation in this regard will render me a twin of The Bride of Frankenstein.
3 comments:
are you sure she didn't strategically colour/not colour bits? :D
i just saw a book titled "Mid LIfe Crisis at 30" and the tagline was "Is 30 the new 50?"
Hi Puiming,
Aaargh! I guess I'll just have to wear my mid-30s like it's the new black.
Charmaine hon,
I'm pretty sure the streaks are authentic!
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