I really and truly am not vain. I promise.
It’s just that I have a couple of chin hairs that crop up from time to time. I started with one when I was 30, and thought the world would end. By 35 I had a couple more, and now at the ripe age of 45 I’ve lost count. I tried electrolysis. I tried laser. But due to a lack of inexhaustible funding, I’m back to good ol’ fashioned plucking.
I don’t delude myself into thinking I’m the only middle-aged mom with chin hair. And I certainly am wise enough not to base my self-worth on my looks. But, there comes a time in a woman’s life when she just doesn’t want to worry that her husband will get a rug burn when he kisses her, ya know?
So every now and then I’ll feel my chin and if there is any prickiness there at all, out comes those tweezers. I don’t care if I’m in the privacy of my own bathroom, or in a very public grocery store parking lot. I’m getting that prickly bastard if it’s the last thing I do.
You never see men worrying about that kind of thing, do you? Even My Captain has a freak runaway ear hair that he finds amusing, but you never see him dashing off to pluck it or pull it out. (OW!) Men just don’t care. And they will SAY they don’t care if it’s on their wife, either.
But let me ask you this, have you ever seen a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit model with a couple of long, black chin hairs, or maybe a Fu-Manchu in the making?
I think not.
And believe you me, no soccer mom wants to be seen with a Fu Manchu, either.
But like I said, it’s not about vanity for me. I don’t plan on applying to Sports Illustrated any time soon.
It’s just that I don’t like giving rug burns.
Because I’m thoughtful like that.