Not long ago, thanks to a salon visit, my face, except for eyelashes and eyebrows, was devoid of hair. It was as smooth as butter. I felt beautiful, desirable and 29 years old again–for about 47 minutes. That’s when those little nibs of hair started to grow back. 47 MINUTES! I guess it could have been a little longer than that, but not much.
Advancing age has made it necessary to regularly exfoliate so I don’t morph into someone resembling veteran actor Ernest Borgnine–or, even worse, Bert from Sesame Street, sporting an unrelenting uni-brow.
Since I turned 40, finding hair in annoying places has become a common occurrence–one I hate.
Today I was thinking about this: Every woman if she lives to be old enough, will most likely experience this lovely phenomenon. First, the little hairs coming out of the chin.. then the eyebrows get shaggy and without sufficient warning grow out of control.. then.. and here’s the kicker.. facial hair starts showing up all over the place–tiny protuberances everywhere that grow into full-blown hairs. Yuck.
That’s right– every woman. That means Halle Berry, Queen Elizabeth, Angelina Jolie, Condoleeza Rice, Miss Universe.. and me. And any other female that doesn’t subscribe to a more simian look and feel.
It comes down to the very real possibility of spending an hour or more every day in front of a mirror with a pair of tweezers–even after a facial wax.
I no longer look at a woman and wonder why “she doesn’t just pluck that thing off her chin.” She’s either taking a stand, is tired of the daily procedure or doesn’t care. Whatever the case I applaud her.
But since unwanted facial hair drives me nuts, I pluck, wax and tweeze with the masses. Waxing hurts, but for the momentary pleasure of experiencing a nubile face on a body that’s, well, not quite ‘all that’ anymore, I do it. And it feels really gooooooood.
Until the next time..