My Endless Puberty: A Modern Man's Horror Story

Lionel Richie had "My Endless Love." Surfers had there "Endless Summer" Billy Idol had his "Endless Sleep."

Why have I been cursed with My Endless Puberty?

I'm sure we all remember those awkward days of growing up. The funny voices, the zits that appeared before major social engagements, your voice cracking in front of the girl you had a crush on, and falling down the stairs because your legs literally grew overnight.

Of course, let's not forget about those awkward moments in the locker room where certain young gentlemen who were popular with the ladies looked a little more manly in some areas than the rest of us. If I'd only known that most of these guys would be bald and divorced before 30, it would have helped with my awkward puberty years.

Ahh. The memories. The horrible, horrible, middle school memories.

Unfortunately, you're given hope. Your parents and teachers tell you it's only temporary. You'll soon grow out of it and those awkward days of puberty will be replaced by a virtual nirvana of life experiences.

Dirty, rotten, stinkin' liars!

I have now learned that this is a lie of epic proportions on the level of such deceptions as the Tooth Fairy, Santa, and an actual plan for the war in Iraq.

I still get the occasional zit, but that's not the half of it.

I looked in the mirror a morning about a year ago and was more aghast at what I saw then normal. There were hairs coming out of my earlobes. There were hair sightings in my ears as well. My eyebrow hairs were all pointing in the wrong direction and a few were trying to unite one eyebrow with the other. Plus, there seemed to be way too many for my forehead to handle. On top of that, there was a maverick eyebrow hair growing a quarter inch above my actual eyebrow. And good Lord, my nose hair. Where the @#$@#!% is it trying to go?

This hair seems to be falling off my head and then reappearing in other areas of my body. Matter cannot be created or destroyed, as is learned in the conservation of matter theory. Maybe we need a conservation of hair theory as well. I think this may have been started already if you click here.

But moving on...

After a good period of shouting, swearing, cursing, and crying these were all painfully plucked.

And then there was the epiphany while shaving . . . For the love of what used to be on top of my head, I have hairs coming out of my cheeks. Yea, I think there is some sort of upward-northern migration of beard hair that is being called by some silent plea for unification from my usurping eyebrows. I'm actually shaving my cheeks, and am worried that the migration will go straight through my eyes instead of over my nose.

I'm beginning to remember those old guys I'd see occasionally during my travels. You know, the ones who had a bush growing out of their nose or ears, or had eyebrows the size of small rodents. "Hey, old guy," you'd snigger, "you let those eyebrows run the wheel at night?"

Now it's obvious to me that those three years where my body didn't really change much at all in my mid-twenties were a cruel break that brought unrealistic happiness and bliss. And now there is a big fear that I'll be over run like the buffet at a fat farm and I won't be able to hold it back.

And as I watch the white flakes fall outside my window on this cold and blustery day I wonder
when will I too give up and just let it grow, let it grow, let it grow.