Chest Hair – A Personal Reflection

By David Michael Newstead.

I used to only have three chest hairs. In fact, I distinctly remember standing in a swimming pool as an adolescent and counting them.

One. Two. Three.

There they were. And just as easily, I pulled them out. Instantly, I’d reverted to a hairless chest and that was that, I thought. Problem solved!

Of course, the more time that went by the more chest hairs started to appear. Then one day, there were too many to count. Now, that may not be a particularly artful way to talk about growing up or to measure the passage of time, but it’s accurate enough.

So, recently when I noticed three gray hairs in the middle of my chest, it was an odd kind of deja vu. I was standing in a swimming pool again and there they were.

One. Two. Three.

Of course, I could pull the hairs out if I wanted to, but it wouldn’t change anything. Time was marching forward relentlessly. The clock was ticking. And standing there in my bathing suit, it made me pause for a moment to reflect on the past, think about the future, and consider the widening gulf between the two.