A few months ago, my “age” caught up with me and I saw a few white hairs on my head. Now I’m a brunette, with fine straight hair, but this stuff was not only white, it was thick and somewhat on the curly side. Eek. White hair? Seriously? Am I really at THAT age? Well, nothing to do about it, except comb over it, hide it amongst the lovely brown hair and by all means never and I mean NEVER pull one out. Because you know what happens, right? You pull one out and six more come to its funeral.
You have to understand that when this first vestige of old age boldly shows itself on the top of your head, you are very, very aware of the exact placement of each and every one. Last week, I noticed that one of the culprits was missing. Oh no!!! How the heck did that happen? Great.
A couple of days after mourning the accidental loss of the white hair and waiting for its buddies to show up, I noticed a “bump” on my head around the area of the missing filament. Whatever. I moved on. By that evening, the area was really sore and hurting. It actually felt like an insect bite which is not really that big of a deal. We have a lot of spiders in our house and we are all constantly scratching away at bumpy bites. Again … moved on. The next day, the spot was actually hurting pretty badly and I thought that maybe, I had somehow scratched it with one of my crazy-ass (but highly fashionable) pronged head bands. It was bothering me all day and I had a constant headache, but it was a crazy day and once again … moved on.
(There’s a reason for this detailed description. Trust me. You have to know the entire evolution of this incident to fully appreciate its impact.)
By that night, I could no longer ignore the irritation and pain, not to mention that it was no longer a bump, but more like a scratchy and … sharp? … wound. So, hubby whipped out the flashlight and started poking around. His diagnosis was that it looked like it could be a splinter. Again, this is not a very unusual thing because I’m one of the clumsiest people I know and I constantly walk into things and bang my head on stuff, so hey … it was possible.
Went to bed, ignored it … moved on. The next morning the “thing” had turned in to a 1/4 of an inch mini-spike. Dude. At this point I’m thinking that if it is in fact a splinter, my body is taking care of itself and pushing the offending thing out. Right? Right. Went on about my day, tried not to touch it … moved on.
By the evening of the second day, it was no longer something I could ignore. It had grown to probably a little less than 1/2 inch and was seriously sharp. And I mean, SHARP. Like a tip of a needle sharp. So, armed with a flashlight, a magnifying mirror and a pair of tweezers, I went on the offensive. If you’re the squeamish type, stop reading now.
Standing in my bathroom and looking at the top of my head in the mirror (no mean feat, I assure you. Try it, it’s hard to do), I couldn’t believe what I saw. I had a horn!!! It was almost an inch long, white, with a sharp end. TOTALLY looked like the beginnings of a bona fide horn. WTF? Okay, so I had to get it out. I’m standing there running all the possible “splinter scenarios” in my head, mentally tabulating all the “white” furniture that I could’ve possibly banged my head against. We don’t have white furniture. While I’m trying to figure out how the hell something that big got in there, I was also preparing myself to well, yank it out. I mean, I had to. It fucking hurt. Not to mention that it was a fucking HORN. What was I gonna do? “Oh, this? Yeah, it’s nothing. I sprouted a horn last week and well, decided to keep it. Waiting for its twin to make an appearance on the other side of my head.”
Tweezers in hand, I went to battle. Now I can watch bloody & gory movies and not bat an eye. I can clean up other people’s wounds and nothing. But, I cannot and I mean CANNOT perform anything other than maybe apply a Bandaid on myself. I … can’t. Simple as that. So I’m standing there, literally shaking, feeling faint and nauseous, trying to get my “horn” with the tweezers. I thought I was going to pass out, hit my head on something and get another “splinter.” Ten minutes of struggling and finally grabbed the damn thing and pulled. And pulled. And pulled. It felt like I was yanking a piece of my brain out. It was the weirdest sensation. When the whole thing came out, it was probably about 2 inches long. And, it was thick, like a little white twig. Swallowing the rising bile in my throat and trying hard not to pass out, I set out to examine the thing. Wouldn’t you know it? It was six white hairs, clumped together so tight they had actually formed in to one thick hair follicle. Did you get that? SIX white hairs.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how I sprouted a horn on my head. Fucking white hairs and their goddamn funerals …