The White of your...Chin?

For 3-4 years now I’ve had a soul patch. Here's a pic:

Not a solid 3-4 years mind, you. It’s come and gone quite a few times over the years. Recently I developed a rather nasty habit. I chew on my soul patch. This week, my habit led to a disturbing revelation.

Most of you know I have dark-brown hair. Those of you who didn’t know…well now you do. My facial hair (developing a theme aren’t we) does not follow suit with the hair atop my head. My upper-lip hair is almost exclusively blonde. Which makes my mustache even less manly than its lack of density already portrays.

The hair on my chin is a horse of a different color. Literally. Well, the color part is literal. I do not have a horse on my chin. Once in a blue moon I grow a goatee. I’ll keep it for a few weeks then shave. Usually when Misty says she’s tired of it.

If you’ve seen my goateed face, you know that portion of facial hair appears as dark as my curly locks. Looks can be deceiving. Upon removal of said goatee, I have, being a wee bit off mentally, often closely examined the hairs of my chinny chin chin. Amidst the dark brown whiskers hides a vast palette of hair hues.

Blonde. Light brown. Red.

My soul patch (seen above) is somewhere between the mustache hair and the goatee hair. Both physically and colorly. (Yes, I made up a word.) It is darker than my mustache, but not as colorful as the goatee. It is a fairly even mixture of brown and blonde.

Now, my unseemly discovery.

A few days ago as I drove I mindlessly partook in my facial hair chewing habit. I soon realized I’d bitten through a hair or two. I retrieved the 4 hairs from my mouth and (being a wee bit off mentally) I examined them.

Brown. Blonde. Brown. Blonde.

But I noticed something odd. One blonde hair was a lighter shade than the other. I examined it closer. It almost looked white.

My daughter sat in the back seat. I held it out for her to see.

“What color is this?”

“White.”

“AAAHHH!”

I didn’t actually scream out loud, but my mental shriek was deafening.

I replied to my daughter as nonchalantly as I could, “I found that in my soul patch. My facial hairs are turning white.”

“You have some on your head, too.”

My heart sank. My hopeful brain finally accepted the message that my eyes tried to relay time and time again. “Those aren’t just blonde highlights. You’ve got gray hairs.”

Looks like it’s time to shave my head again, or “the clippers of denial.”