Little brothers, regardless how much taller they are, are still little in the eyes of everyone. Ok fine- me. Which was why it was rather disconcerting to find that one fine morning he's interested in the mug that he sees in the mirror and has a fetish for hair care. It is, was and always will be the hair care part of it that leaves the hapless bystanders tearing their hair in exasperation.
You see, unlike most guys who love to splock on whatever goop they can get onto their hair in the name of "styling" my brother went the other way. Exhibiting his undoubtably hirsute scalp which looked like a black rainforest, he said-
"Chechi, I'm going bald."
It was with this small statement began a saga of mythical proportions- and an endless stream of potions and elixirs that supposedly increase hair growth. It wouldn't have beeen so bad if he had kept his paranoia to himself. But noooo. We family members had to listen to all the myriad proof of his baldness- which, if it were true, was as easy to notice as a microbe. He'd point out his side parting as the beginnings of a baldspot. If the Chinese had had the oppurtunity to confer with my sibling, chinese torture would have been more effective.
And the anticlimax of the whole business is that last week he went and shaved his head- Clean, shining, BALD.
Boys,Guys, Men- the mind bogles at their convoluted logic. And they call women the eternal enigma. I say - "HAH!".
The Identity of Indiscernibles - Supra Amani, the Fifth Count of the royal estate of Amani sat in his imported Chesterfield sofa, gazing out of a French window that opened into a view of r...
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