Can you imagine waking up, crawling out of bed and into the shower only to find a skin head in there? Yeah, me too.
But that’s exactly what happened to me this morning.
After managing to crawl out of bed and bang my way to the shower, I began as I normally do by washing my hair. I get it all wet. I put shampoo in my right hand which I apply to my now wet head. I begin to lather the stuff adding more water if necessary. Then I begin to do a vigorous scrubbing of my scalp and hair.
Today things weren’t quite the way I remember them to be when washing my hair. Each time I moved my hands forward or back I heard a thump. Forward. Thump. Back. Thump. Forward. Thump. Well you get it. As I moved my hands faster, the thumps got faster.
The thumping was really annoying. More annoying because I didn’t know the source.
Now, I admit I was scrubbing a bit more vigorously than normal. It’s springtime. I shed more. I prefer not to shed from my head so I scrub with much more vigor this time of year. I also use a shampoo that is supposed to help end the head shedding but it hasn’t been working the last couple of days.
The thumping was not stopping and neither was I.
Being of the curious sort I listened closer to determine where the noise was coming from. I got the answer as I paid more attention to what I was doing. To my horror the thumping was the noise my skin made as it moved across my scalp. The skin head in the shower was my very ownself.
When my skin was stretched all the way forward, it would thump. When it was stretched all the way to the back, it would thump. With each movement of my hands, it thumped. The faster my hands moved, the closer and louder the thumps were. The thumps were the sound of my skin reaching its limit.
Never mind the sound I made when I figured out what the thumps were and had reached the limits of what I can handle in this aging process. It wasn’t for virgin ears. Hell, it wasn’t for any ears.
All I could think of was the one lady I ever knew who had regular , old fashioned face lifts and the fact that they literally pulled all the lose skin up from her face, cut somewhere in the hair line, and removed it. Is that what I am going to be relegated to doing?
I am not particularly fond of skin heads in any form. Well, except my youngest son who is handsome and whom I love, hair or no hair.
As for me, technically, I think you would have to call me a loose skin head.
I want to know why I’ve never noticed this before. Does head skin suddenly lose it’s grip and become slack?
Is there glue that lets go after a certain number of years?
Is there a warranty on this and how do I place a claim to get this situation rectified?
If you saw this happening or knew about it, why didn’t you warn me? I cannot be the first slack skin head.
Now that I know about this problem what am I supposed to do? Ignore it? Forget it? Glue it back in place? Or resort to having a, gulp, face lift?
I am going to the pharmacy on my way home today. I need to purchase some of that glue they use in surgery these days. You know, the stuff that keeps skin together while it heals. I might be able to inject it under my skin and keep the stuff from thumping about.
Either that or some ear plugs to stop the thumping when I wash my hair.
From the life and mind of:
Wanda M. Argersinger
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