The first elder realization came about two years ago. That awful day I woke up to find, when I gazed at my mirror reflection, that my smooth and delicate ear lobes had suddenly transformed into monster blobs—without cause. There was no malady, no infection, no chaffing, no heavy embroidery on my pillowcase, in fact no exacerbation of any kind.
But nevertheless, I had seen earlobes like this before. Oh yes, now I remember. They flagged the drooping heads of so many of the dreary souls I had once seen at a rest home. That’s where I had seen them.
I was so—not pleased. This new outgrowth was in no way comparable to the slow, creeping pace of outgrowth in my 13th year, and 14th year, and 15th year, that finally, finally, in my 16th year, resulted in sweet, flattering, and lovely swollen breasts. The ear-lobe-happening was a quick-take in no way comparable to that tardy breast transformation.
With the ear-lobe thing, there was no wait. I hadn’t yet reached any point of expectation and already it happened. I went to bed with delicate ears one night and woke up with Dumbo ears the next morning. Egad!
But as awful as it is/was, I am truly glad that I did not in my youth, wear those great honking ring-implants in my ears that I now see some young people wearing. What will become of them, when they reach “Way II” of their senior years and their earlobes explode?
But, all that aside, within “Way II”, the education has only just begun. Cause yesterday, just yesterday, I took a peek in the mirror to see if I was okay for the dreaded trip to town and guess what?
Now my nose has exploded. It is no longer the angular delicate silhouette it has always been. No longer the reserved profile of a perfect balance within the spectrum of once-large-eyes, no somewhat reduced, and once-full-lips, now somewhat reduced, and once-full-face, now somewhat reduced.
Yeh, you guessed it. Now I have this gawd-awful nose, that obviously happens as one ages, whether one avoids alcohol, steroids, cabbage, jumbo onions, or boils lexicons with cosines and drinks the reckoning warm without sugar.
And, so now, the conclusion formed within the context of these latest circumstances is that within “Way III”, or should I say a week or two, I will find a great honking coarse black hair growing out of this bulbous nose with all good will and dedication.
NEXT POST: — we continue on our way — to WAY III.