On my chin.
True, sad, ohhhh so sad story.
The chin hairs are taking over and it's truly frightening.
It started with catching a glimpse of myself in the rear view mirror while driving one day, with the sun hitting my face at just the right angle, revealing unto me the lovely, soft blonde fuzz of a baby goatee.
|Have you seen my wiener?|
I had the same reaction I have when a bee flies into my car: I screamed and careened across four lanes of highway, completely oblivious to oncoming traffic or the lives of others, off to the shoulder of the road, where I flew out of the vehicle and danced in a circle, flapping my hands and beating myself about the head and shoulders.
Okay, maybe not... but in my head? It was exactly like that.
The very next thing I did was buy wax strips and depilatory cream.
Which I used at the same time.
First I burned those little hair follicles within an inch of their lives.
Then I waxed, just for good measure.
Then I developed the narliest rash EVER in the shape of the most perfect goatee that's ever been seen, either before or since.
It was super hard coming up with an excuse for swollen, blistered mass across my lip, down the sides of my mouth, and covering my chin that didn't include the words "facial hair" and "I'm turning into a dude."
|What mustache? I have no idea what you're talking about.|
Okay, not so much. Because I'm pretty sure that happened more than once.
Depilatory creams burned the shizzle out of my face every single time I used it. (Remind me to tell you sometime about how I, knowing full well that my skin reacts to depilatory creams as if hot acid were applied directly to my body, decided it would be a fabulous idea before going on vacation in Vegas to use it on my "bikini area" and my arm pits. Because, you know... nothing is sexier than a babe in a bathing suit with red, bubbling skin traveling down her inner thighs and out from her pits.)
That didn't stop me, though... I kept on like a little storm trooper, determined to beat facial hair at it's own game.
Not only did it literally scorch the skin off of my face, it left the hair behind.
I finally waved a little white flag and bought myself a hot wax kit.
(Remind me to tell you about the time I decided to give myself a home Brazilian and wore that wax for a week.)
In case you didn't know, applying hot wax to your face requires a certain skill that most laymen (women) do not possess. I got wax in my hair, up my nose, down my front, all over the furniture, the floor, the curtains, the dogs, the kids...
It was a fucking mess.
And the only hair that was removed came off the dog, when I cut the wax out of it's hair.
So then I decided to grow my hair out and let it hang in my face, so that the goatee would just kind of blend in.
|My mustache is cleverly disguised by my pig tails, bangs, and ciggie.|
Okay, not really.
I took up plucking.
I plucked that sucker like it was my job.
Then it became an obsession.
If I couldn't find my tweezers, I was like a junkie looking for a fix. I would move all the furniture, look under the sofa cushions (because plucking your facial hair while watching tv is the ultimate in multi-tasking, yo), rip up the carpet, accuse the kids and the pets of stealing them...
It got ugly.
And the hair got darker, and thicker, and more abundant.
It became downright luxurious.
My eyebrows thinned, my armpit hair thinned, my leg hair thinned... and all the while, my goatee was developing a life of it's own.
All the energy of my other hair was suddenly focused on my upper lip and chin.
|I feel pretty... oh so pretty...|
I plucked giant holes in my face, digging those stubborn little hairs out beneath 200 layers of epidermis, creating craters in my chin where six or seven hairs would then sprout, rather than the one that had been growing there previously.
And then this morning, I snapped.
Not in the way that everyone's been expecting, where I smother Dan in his sleep and go off on a bloody rampage.
I snapped in another way.
I snapped in the way that Helen Gurley Brown, Cosmo, and Tyra warn women to never, ever, ever snap.
I grabbed my razor and shaved my goatee.
I shaved that sucker clean off.
I took off sideburns, chin hair, neck hair, and mustache.
And I nicked the FUCK out of my chin.
And in doing so, took one giant leap closer to becoming a DUDE.
|I'm sexy and I know it...|
I have a sudden urge to hock a loogy and pee standing up.
And maybe adjust myself while carrying on a conversation with a perfect stranger.
And fart in public...
|Pardon me while I celebrate my facial hair and intestinal gas...|
Maybe being a dude won't be soooo bad...