I do not like other people’s hairs. I do not like them in my food. I do not like them in the shower or on a toilet seat or in a sink or touching me. I know this is slightly ridiculous. There is just something about another’s hairs curving or curling and lying there in a sauce or remaining, reminding me of another’s skin cells lining the space. The worst are hairs on public toilets. They leave little doubt from whence they came. I will not sit on them. If the seat is damp enough they cannot be removed by breath, I do not sit there.
I do not mind Milla’s hairs or Dan’s hairs or even pet hairs really. I actually enjoy running my hands and fingers through those hairs. It is the stranger hair or the person less than close to me hair that really creeps me out. I would just prefer not to touch it or have it in the shower with me, that’s all.
I know. I’m weird. I get it.
Random Thoughts on Everything and Nothing 
People who like stranger hair in strange places are weird, not people who don’t. Amusing post. Cheers!
Has a Dr Seuss feel to it…
I do not like hairs.
Stranger hairs lying there.
On the toilet seat.
In my meat.
Stranger hairs
curling where
they should not dare.
I do not like hairs
but those
I know.
Hair is icky. You’re not weird at all. I consider pets’ hairs much cleaner than strangers’ hairs.
The first house I ever bought was full of hairs. They were thick, black, and curly – and were omnipresent. They were also very human. We never liked that house.
Tooty