I discovered a dark hair on my chin the other day, further evidence I'm rolling down the other side of the hill at ever-increasing speed, and was so excited I immediately went to tell Paul. Let's just say he was less than thrilled:
ME: Look! I have a whisker on my chin!
PAUL: (curling self into fetal ball) Gross! That's disgusting!
ME: Oh, NICE. It's a natural by-product of aging and you think it's gross? Well, the hair in your EARS is gross, too.
PAUL: You're always wanting me to see hairs on your face. What if I asked if you want to see my hemmorhoid?
ME: Cool! Sure! Want to take another look at my varicose vein? Is THAT gross?
PAUL: (pause) No?
To spite him I'm going to keep growing out my Prize Hair to see how long it'll get. I told Paul I'm going to stick a bow on it when it's long enough. He got the dry heaves. I've seldom been so proud.