I share a quirk with Larry David. Some might even call it a character flaw. Each of us suffers from an irresistible urge to go where angels fear to tread. I have been fighting this urge for months, but it is time for me to address a topic which perhaps should stay unaddressed. Of course I am referring to beauty enhancement.
Men and women alike are bombarded with the constant message we look like frogs in a world of princes and princesses, and in this part of the country where there are a disproportionate number of princes and princesses, the rest of us frogs are under great pressure to get it together.
Men are told we are too short, too fat, too bald, and too gray. I too have succumbed to this pressure. Once thick and brown, my hair first turned salt and pepper and then only salt. Now there is a distinct showing of scalp at the crown.
To remedy this affliction, I am seriously considering turning to religion. If I were to become observant, a kipa or yamaka would adorn and completely hide this ever growing spot. To add insult to injury, the hair once on the top of my head seems to be reappearing in my nostrils and ears. Ah, to be young again.
Since this is a time for confession, I admit to having a birthmark right smack in the middle of my forehead. If I were a woman from India, it might look appropriate, but I was never particularly fond of it. I went to a renowned plastic surgeon at a most reputable New York City hospital to have it removed.
“Out, out damned spot,” I told the doctor. He did his thing and out it came for a mighty sum I might add. About three months later the birthmark reappeared.
No, I did not get a refund. It then dawned on me that my creator wanted that birthmark to be exactly where he had placed it, and probably wants that scalp showing also. In other words, don’t fool around with mother nature.
I realize no matter how hard I try, I am not going to resemble Brad Pitt one little bit. I almost bumped into him once, and trust me when I say no amount of plastic surgery is going to make me look like him. I have decided to accept my fate as an average bloke not nearly as good looking as movie stars like Pierce Brosnan but perhaps slightly better looking than Woody Allen.