MY boss and I started out talking about my annual performance and salary review. It didn't last very long. We work closely together and talk a lot during the year, leaving few issues at the end of the year that haven't already been discussed. What chimpanzee and I
have in commonSo the talk turned to a review of my face.
My boss has gained a few pounds lately and I've lost a few and he wanted to know how I did it.
"Well," I said, "it helps when you break your leg and can't get to the kitchen or snack bar for three months."
In truth, I confessed, my wife put me on Dr. Shintani's radical vegan diet six months ago. If you cut out animal flesh, dairy products, sugar and refined foods, you're pretty much guaranteed to waste away.
"You look different," he said. "I can actually see a little definition in your face."
Gee, thanks, I thought. So he's saying that my face used to be an amorphous blob.
My Shar-pei Bingo has a whole lot of definition in those wrinkled jowls of his, but I'm not sure he'd take it as a compliment if somebody told him so.
"Is your hair getting longer?" he asked.
"No," I said, "I cut it with the same half-inch buzzer attachment every week."
"Oh, then it must mean that when your face gets thinner, it makes your hair look longer," he said.
Bingo the Shar-pei
Keep going. You're on a roll. Let's see how deep you can dig yourself in here. Luckily, my skin is as thick as my waistline.
Actually, he had inadvertently hit on a sore point that has come up lately between me and my hair.
It started one morning when I looked in the mirror while washing my face and it suddenly struck me that I wear my hair like a chimpanzee.
I shared this horrifying insight with my wife, who quickly corrected me.
"A chimpanzee doesn't really wear his hair," she said. "It sort of comes that way as part of the basic package."
Thanks a lot. So the difference between me and a chimpanzee is that a chimpanzee is born looking like a monkey while I choose to look like a monkey.
I started thinking about growing my hair out again until I ran up against the reason I cut it short in the first place: There's not much left to grow out.
More accurately, the reason ran up against me.
My wife and I were celebrating a special occasion over dinner at one of Honolulu's finest restaurants. A roving photographer took our picture as we munched our salads and offered us prints for $20. How could I say no? Especially after I had maneuvered her into looking the other way when the lady selling flowers came by.
"It's not a bad picture of us," I said as we examined the prints.
BUT I wondered about the professionalism of the photographer. "Why did he have to snap it while the bald guy in the next booth was so close behind us?" I asked.
"I hate to tell you this," she said, "but there was no other booth behind us. There was a mirror behind us and that bald guy was the back of your own head. Now do you finally believe what I've been telling you all these years about what a big old bald spot you've got back there?"
So can I get my $20 back? Or better yet, can I get a little respect? PLEASE!