I suffer from two severe genetic deficiencies.
First, I carry the gene for the Dutch Disease. The symptoms are pink, freckly skin that swings violently from bright red to pasty white and back and forth again and again and again. The closest I’ve ever come to a tan is when several freckles merge together into a larger brown spot.
I also carry the deYong gene which means I have known since childhood that I was destined to retain very few hairs on my head.
The combination of these two conditions means that I have paid for my dermatologist’s boat, substantial portions of his children’s college tuitions, and probably a bit of his alimony.
Doctor Bob constantly tells me not to go outside without a chapeau sitting jauntily atop my pate. (In reality, he said, “Don’t go outside without a cap, you dumb shit,” but it sounds far more sophisticated the way I worded it.)
I use this as an excuse to buy caps. Everywhere we go on our travels, I buy caps. So many caps that we have to send them home along the way because they won’t fit in our suitcases.
ONE ADDED NOTE: Jamie and I are convinced that I bought far more caps than this, and we both swear we’ve seen them since we got home, but they’ve apparently been stashed in some mystery location.