My First Gray Hairs

So, yesterday was a humbling experience, son. Look, I always joke about being washed, but I actually felt it yesterday. I mean, I already have the joints of a 60-year-old dude. But, that’s because of my years of basketball, man. On the real, this gray hair shit is for the birds, fam. Frankly, I thought I had more time before my follicles threw in the towel, bruh. All in all, Father Time is trying to run up on the kid, brethren.

Ok, before I continue, let me tell everyone a quick story. So, I first shaved my head bald back in February of 2009. After getting into an argument with my Jamaican barber about where my hairline should be, I said “fuck it,” son. Shit, instead of pretending like my shapeup wasn’t starting to make the McDonald’s arch, I just took it all off, man. Side note, hearing a barber yell “no mon, it don’t grow dere” in patois is a trash ass feeling, folks. Anyway, because of this, I haven’t paid much attention to what my hair does when it starts to grown back in.

In any case, as of late, I’ve been lazy with shaving my head. So, when I hopped out the shower yesterday, I was in for a rude awakening, fam. Now, at first, when I saw the gray, I thought it was dead skin, bruh. Real talk, I tried to scratch the shit off, but it wouldn’t budge. From there, I asked my wife if she could try scratching it off. She looked at my head and was like “babe, that ain’t dead skin, that’s a gray hair. Oh, and you have another one over here.” Wait, what? Word? Listen, it would be one thing if I was “premature gray” or some shit. But, that ain’t it, folks. The boy LC is just getting old, people.

In the end, this post might not matter to anyone else, but it matters to me. Not because I think there’s something wrong, but because it’s a reminder that I need to take better care of myself. Ultimately, I’m not trying to be the bedridden old head or the geriatric senior citizen. Hell, good thing I just bought a bunch of dumbbells for the crib, son. At the end of the day, I’m trying to feel like a fucking superhero when I’m 50, man. With that being said, let me get outta here and lift some weights, fam. Good day. LC out.

P.S. I’d rock the fuck out of a gray beard, though. Let’s make that happen, Father Time! That is all.

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I Un-Retired & Then Re-Retired From Basketball

So, does anyone know what it’s like to run in slow motion? Like, no camera tricks or movie trickery? Well, that’s exactly what I was doing yesterday, son. *Sigh* Who the fuck told me that I could still play basketball, man? On the real, my entire body has committed treason and mutiny against me, fam. All I know is, two hours after I un-retired from basketball, I hung my jersey back up in the rafters, bruh. Frankly, my run is over, folks. Keeping it a buck, I just have to accept my washed-dom and move on, brethren.

Ok, let me be honest for a second, son. Now, literally EVERY injury I’ve ever had has come as a result of playing ball. Shit, I broke my left leg, tore my right knee cartilage, badly sprained both ankles AND dislocated by left pinky finger. However, my dumbass just kept on playing, man. Why? Because of an insane love of the game, fam. Hell, to put this in perspective, my love of basketball used to be neck-and-neck with my love of music, bruh. Yeah, it was THAT real, people.

Anyway, after the birth of my second child, I kinda strayed away from the game, son. Not because I lost any love, but because I just didn’t have the time, man. Moving on, in the last few weeks, I decided to get back in the game, fam. So, I laced up my kicks and hit the gym, bruh. Needless to say, my body HATES me today, brethren. Like, every time I take a step, I can hear my knees saying “what the fuck is wrong with you?!” Real talk, by the time I got home, my wife thought I got hit by a truck, folks. That’s how labored I was walking, people.

In the end, I’m legitimately in pain as I write this, son. Ultimately, the glory days are over, man. By and by, my jumper may still be good, but my basketball fitness is traaaaaaash, fam! At the end of the day, I’m going to just stick to boxing and lifting, bruh. All in all, I don’t need these type of shenanigans anymore, folks. So, RIP to my basketball career, brethren. It was great while it lasted. LC out.