Human body is a prototype that was rushed in production

I don’t want to alarm anyone, but the human body is clearly a prototype that was rushed into production. There are just too many unnecessary features. And not enough upgrades, my hairdresser told me yesterday.

Admittedly, she is known for her “free cracks at wisdom”. Hence her full appointment book.

Let’s start with the obvious, the appendix, she went on while snipping away. A mysterious little organ whose main job is to sit quietly for years and then, one day, try to kill you. No warning. No explanation. Just pain and inflammation.

Then there are wisdom teeth. Named, I assume, because you need a great deal of wisdom to understand why they exist at all.

They arrive late, cause chaos, push everything out of alignment, and then get evicted like problematic tenants.

Honestly, they’re the body’s version of uninvited relatives.

Don’t get me started on toe hair. What evolutionary meeting did that come out of?

Also, that one rogue eyebrow hair. It grows overnight, defies gravity and seems to have ambitions of its own. You can pluck it, but it will return. Stronger. Angrier. Possibly with friends.

And then there’s the body’s ability to make weird noises at the worst possible moments.

Your stomach will remain silent all day until you’re in a quiet room with other humans. Then suddenly it sounds like you’ve swallowed a washing machine.

Now, while we’re clearly dealing with a flawed design, what should the human body have included? I asked with a straight face.

A fuel gauge. Not for hunger, but actual fuel, she piped up immediately. A little digital display on your arm that tells you, “You have 12% energy remaining. Stop pretending you can function.”

Also, a mute button. For everything. Knees that crack, stomachs that protest, people who insist on talking during movies. One button. Silence.

And definitely interchangeable joints. Imagine being able to unscrew your knees after a long day and pop in a fresh pair. Or upgrade to “sports edition” on weekends. Game-changer, she giggled.

And, finally, I would like to propose a rewind button. Not for life – just for moments. Like when you wave back at someone who wasn’t waving at you. Just a quick rewind. Two seconds. Dignity restored.

But no. Instead, we got an appendix and toe hair.

I had to agree with her. Here we are, walking around in bodies that creak, leak and occasionally betray us in public. And yet, somehow, we make it work.