HAIR

A pair of bright, young , inquisitive eyes had been scrutinizing me intently for several moments as I read his Dinosaur book to him. A question was in the offing, but I was not quite prepared for the one that followed: “Why have you got all that hair growing in your nose, Uncle Jay?”

I hesitated a moment or two, tempted to answer: “Well, you know all that hair your Pop has been losing? He gave it to me for safe keeping, but I already had more than enough growing upwards so it began growing downwards instead.” But I knew Pop was a bit stressed about his hair or lack of it, and would NOT be amused if my answer were reported, as no doubt it would be. Imaginative answers were fine in their place and this little Imp loved them, but just now a more mundane reply was in order.

“Well, as you get older, hair begins to grow in all kinds of strange places. Look, it’s growing out my ears too.” Careful, old man, and you’d better get in a lot more before the inevitable “Where else?” and the predictable “Why?” So I hastened to add: “For us men it grows on our faces too and, if we don’t shave it off, we have beards and moustaches. Beards, moustaches and long hair are sometimes all the go fashion-wise. I even had a beard myself years ago, but as it grew more ginger than my hair, I eventually shaved it off. A couple of my work-mates used to refer to me as the ‘hirsute’ Mr Jones, or ‘hairy’ Mr Jones, to distinguish me from old Alf Jones.”

I returned to the Dinosaur book hoping that the images of these hairless reptilian creatures and the story line would divert further question. No such luck!

“Girls don’t shave. They don’t grow beards either.”

“Well, that’s true, but sometimes witches are drawn with beards in story books.”

“Why?” There was another of those ‘whys’.

“I suppose that’s because they’re supposed to be crazy, mixed up people, and that’s one way the artist has of showing it. But of course, witches don’t really exist, do they?”

“Mum’s got a razor in her vanity bag.”

I wondered at the connection between witches and beards and Mum’s razor. But then it dawned. “Oh! Women sometimes like to shave their legs to make them smoother. Probably don’t want their stockings catching and causing ladders.” Neat answer, old man. Quick, back to the Dinosaurs.

“Dad’s got a lot of hair on his chest. Mum says he should get rid of his fur coat, it tickles. But I don’t think he shaves it off.”

Razor sharp himself, this young shaver, thinks I to myself, trying hard not to chuckle at these family revelations.

“I don’t think Mum’s got any hair on her chest. I think all her hair’s gone to her head. She’s always fussing with it.”

“Probably,” I agreed, still looking for an escape from this hairy subject. “They used to say that hair was a woman’s crowning glory. Just look at all the hairdressers and their salons. Good money in all that; they all seem to be busy. Nothing like a compliment about how a woman’s hair looks, young fellow! Just remember that, especially after your mother’s been to the hairdresser’s; you might find that a useful hint for later on in your life too.”

“Why?”

“Just say women like compliments about their looks.”

“Girls are funny!”

Best let that one through to the keeper.

“Why have we got hair, Uncle Jay?”

“Most animals have hair. For many it’s a kind of protection for their skin; for some it acts like a camouflage or disguise. Some animals have very heavy coats to help against cold. We get by instead with clothes because somehow or other over thousands of years we lost our reliance on thick hairy coats. Probably just as well – bugs can be a nuisance, and hair tends to get tangled and knotted. And I don’t think your mother would like the idea of having only one set of clothes, or would be satisfied with only one colour, or one fashion— though your dad might reckon he’d have a lot more money in his hairy pocket.”

“Mum’s always brushing hairs off dad’s jumper or jacket. Says they’re blonde hair. That’s funny because none of us are blonde.”

“She’s probably just kidding. Besides older people tend to go grey and that’s pretty close to blonde,” I added rather lamely.

“But why does hair fall out, anyhow?”

Another why!

“ Hairs have a limited life, as does our skin; probably because it easily gets damaged, though we don’t often notice the damage. We sometimes notice hairs that have fallen out – your mother does anyway - but we don’t tend to notice skin, because only tiny bits fall off and not so often because the hairs help protect the skin. Strangely it’s the head’s dead skin we tend to notice most, as dandruff. Your mother probably brushes that off your father’s jumpers with the blonde hair too.”

“Yeah but she doesn’t say anything about that being blonde!”

Another one for the keeper!

“You know, hair cells are mainly dead, once they push out beyond the skin surface and that’s probably just as well. You don’t feel any pain when your hair is cut.”

“Try tell that to my sister when I pull her hair! She sets up an almighty yell and mum wallops me no matter what the little brat has done to me!”

“Life wasn’t meant to be easy, especially for us males.”

That brought a knowing look from the little imp.

“And life wasn’t always easy for our Dinosaur friends, either. There’s no more of them round anymore and not just because none of them had any hair. And now, my little male, can we get back to our story before there’s none of us males left to hear the end of it?”