On a lighter & totally superficial note ...

Went for a walk today.   It was a beautiful day and I needed to get outside and feel the sun shine on my soul.

I had been under the weather for the past four days and apart from some delightful light relief given to me by friends last night I had been feeling quite down and of low spirits;  feeling sorry for myself I guess for having yet another setback in trying to move forward with life.  I figured a walk in the sun would be enhanced all the more by making it at the sea shore.  Hence off I headed to do the short and manageable coastal walk from Takapuna to Milford beaches. 

It was stunning.  It was the perfect elixir for this solo soul.  The sunshine, cool as it was, was heart warming;  the sound of the tide was melodic to the ears;  the aroma of the sea water seemed to clear the sinuses; and the colours and clarity of the visa more beautiful than one can imagine.

My mind wished the walk was double the distance but the body and it’s weariness from this virus it has been carrying let me know it was more than long enough.  Therefore it was a case of stopping and resting at various points – to sit on a rock, a wall or a conveniently placed park bench.  Everyone loves to people watch and what a better place to watch the world and people pass by than at the seaside.

And there were a lot of people out there today, enjoying the same environs – it made me look warmly back to only a month ago on my walk from Bondi to Bronte beaches and back. where I had noted the surfers, swimmers, speedos and butt cracks.

There were no swimmers, Speedos or butt cracks today but there was one surfer brave enough to test the waters.  Besides, sunny as it was, it was far too cold for butt cracks and Speedos to be exposed.

Could not help but note how many North Shore people have dogs – and walk their dogs along the beach – and how most take with them the little plastic bags to pick up their doggie-doo.  And how some of them don’t.  

As I meandered back to where I had parked the car I diverted to a seat on the shore front and decided to sit and watch the world pass by a little longer.  

Had been there a few minutes when a fairly middle-aged gentleman with a little fluffy dog walked up and plonked himself on the other end of the park bench.  I greeted him with a pleasant ‘hello’ and felt compelled to lean over and pat his little pet happily wagging its tail at me.  Thus began a conversation about how beautiful the day was, how lucky we were and how he comes down most days to walk the dog along the beach.

It was all very pleasant.  The man was pleasantly chatty, the little dog pleasantly cute and the air pleasantly fresh.  And the conversation pleasantly pleasant.  Which made it all the more painful to avoid looking at the man’s hair.  The more we lightly chatted the more I couldn’t take my eyes off his hair.  It was long, and bushy and one could not help but look directly at it.  I am not talking about the hair on his head – I am talking about the hair growing out of his ears and his nose.  He had an abundance of it.  And it was truly remarkable that it seemed to be flourishing so well in such profusion.  It was thick and wiry.  And long.

No matter how hard I tried I could not look anywhere else on his face except at his nose hairs, then when he turned side wards, to his ear hairs. I looked and nodded as he spoke, but I barely heard a word he was speaking due to my reflecting on his magnificent growth.  It was so distracting.

And yes, I thought about how I wished so many of my lady friends were here with me now.  Those lady friends who over the years have had many a chuckle at the expense of men and excessive male crook and nanny old-age-hair.

I have since reflected on how fortunate I was that Tony always ensured his maturing hair growth was always kept trim and unseen - silly little thing really, but still a reality - just as I kept my body hair to a minimum.  It wasn’t until Tony became unwell with the tumour that I discovered he actually owned a cute little gadget kit to maintain such grooming. Just as us ladies have our own Lady Shave.

Us ladies spend our whole adult life going to great pains to check for under arm hair or hair growth on the legs.  Imagine, men folk, if you sat down on a park bench next to a lady sporting a full growth of leg hair and who scratches her head to expose a full thatch of under arm hair.  You would be just as bemused as I was today.

Well the pleasant conversation came to a natural end when the man’s wife walked up and they and their lovely dog meandered happily off.  Clearly she and the dog loves him, me thought, him and his lovely crop of hair.  Clearly she knows beauty is not skin deep. Clearly she is not superficial, like me.   

Oh well, I thought, best take myself home as soon the sun will set – it’s only a hairs breath away.

Home for a shower, and a shave.  Hair, hair.