Gray's Anatomy

Two pretty little girls stand in the living room and it is obvious from their posture and demeanor that they have rehearsed the speech they are about to deliver.
Their dad is sitting there in the living room in his favorite chair. I’m guessing he is watching a ballgame on TV, although it is strictly conjecture on my part. That’s what I do when I sit in my easy chair.
The elder of the two girls, says in a solemn tone, “Dad, it’s time.’’
The younger pipes in on cue, ‘You would be a nice catch for someone.’’
The elder daughter reveals the box she has been hiding behind her back.
It is a box of “Just for Men’’ hair coloring.
You see, dad suffers from a condition that insures perpetual solitude. Dad has gray hair, which means he is condemned to a life of - I don’t know - watching whatever he wants to watch on TV, eating dinner in his boxers when his daughters aren’t staying over, playing golf on both Saturday AND Sunday if he chooses, not having to lower the lid on the toilet and not having to go see “Sex & The City‘’ or - even worse - "Mamma Mia!'' when he really wanted to see “Iron Man.’’
Now, you can bet if this dad’s progeny had been boys instead of girls, the scene would have played out differently, maybe like this:
Elder son: “Dad, it’s time.’’
Younger son holds out a box.
It is Kraft Macaroni & Cheese.
Now, of course this is simply a television ad. The folks at “Just For Men,’’ are making a point: Gray hair isn’t appealing to women, at least it isn't appealing to lean, long-legged, pretty women in their early 30s.
Based on my own observations, I am conflicted over the accuracy of this claim. As you can tell from my photo, I have gray hair. I am alone. I have not noticed any lean, long-legged pretty women in their early 30s knocking on my door. Of course, I did go to the mailbox down the street a while back. Maybe they came by then. I don’t know. I sorta doubt it.
On the other hand, many women have told me that they find gray hair attractive on a guy.
So maybe it isn’t my gray hair. A quick personal inventory seems appropriate:
Things I have:
A felony conviction.
A winning personality.
A lots of silly stories.
Things I don’t have:
A drivers license.
A home of my own.
A car.
A decent job.
A savings account.
Hmmm.
Yes, it is obviously to the gray hair that’s holding me back.
But, then again, there is one huge problem with this conclusion: I already tried coloring my hair.
Really, it was my brother Mick’s fault. About a year-and-a-half ago, he came to visit from Houston and attended church with me. All the folks at church told me how nice it was to meet my younger brother.
Younger brother? He’s four years older than me, for cryin’ out loud!
My brother is living a lie, you see. He’s been coloring his hair for years, the big fraud.
Well, I was so offended that the next day I went down to Smart Clips and had them color my hair. The cosmetologist lady asked me what my natural color was.
“Brown….I think, Yes, brown. I’m pretty sure.’’
An hour later, I emerged from the Smart Clips with a head full of dark, brown hair.
Over the course of the next few days, I noticed that women did not seem to be paying any attention at all. Sometimes I'd walk right past the same woman two or three times, running my hand through my thick brown hair. No response at all, although one lady did threaten to call 9-1-1, if you can count that as a reaction.
None of my male friends noticed, of course That's how guys are. You could walk past your friend with one of your arms torn off and he might not notice. Men tend not to look at each other. Ever.
Of course, there were some women who noticed. My ex-wife, for example. Co-workers, too. And folks at the church. Nobody liked it. Now, they just didn’t come out and say it, of course. But I could tell by their forced smile and the rather vague compliments. “Wow, you look really different!’’ That sort of thing.
The one exception was my teenage daughter, Abby.
“Cool!’’ she said.
Of course, Abby changes her hair color about once per month, so that pretty much eliminated her as an impartial witness.
To be honest, I didn’t like it, either. I felt like a total phony and couldn’t wait for the color to fade to gray.
So, here I am.
Gray again.
And all alone.
Watching a ballgame on TV.
Eating dinner in my boxers.
Works for me.