The One That Got Away

I had exactly one hair left on my head. Pattern baldness turned into surface of the moon baldness. But I was determined to keep that one long, gray hair, which was located in the front of my scalp.
I tried combing it straight back, off to the side, even let it hang forward until it has reached my eyebrow. I use conditioner and specially imported New Zealand shampoo, designed to straighten the follicle root.
I slept with a skull cap to protect it from humidity and dry heat in winter. I always wore a cap outside, but made sure to air it out inside. That hair needed to breathe. I stay away from radiators, dish washers,  fans and boiling water--anything that might lead this strand to have a breakdown.
And yes, I spoke to it on a regular basis.
I was so careful, but technology did me in. I was at the library and had to use the facilities. Little did I know they had installed state of the art Austrian Super Flush urinals. I innocently did my business and pushed a button. The power of the response sucked up all the air around me and thrust my face against the wall. It yanked out my one hair and  it fell into the urinal, staring up at me in horror.
I sobbed as I rubbed my now completely bald scalp. But I didn't panic. I Googled Hair Is Us and within days a small box arrived containing a long, gray hair and super glue. They claimed it was from Richard Gere.  I only know it looks so elegant I want to cry.

Long Distance Romance

I miss my hair. It's now residing in Indianapolis on Mr. Arthur Sears' head. He has a rare disease causing all his body hair to disappear. I donated mine in 1999 because I have a big heart. I expected new hair to grow back, but it never did. The Lord works in mysterious ways.
I miss my eyebrows, donated to Miss Henrietta Morse of Vermont, who paid me well so she could have Brooke Shields' eyebrows. She sends me photos sometimes and I smile in recognition. I miss those guys. In 2008 I donated my armpit hair to a hermaphrodite near Camden. Miss them too.
I don't miss the hair around my navel, distributed to a New Zealand tribe lacking basic navel coverage. I've kept my butt hair; there's only so much compassion in me.
Long distance romance with ones own hair may seem self involved and slightly peculiar. but I assure you I don't keep my nail clippings in a box. I'd probably become way too attached.