Not For Sissies

Whoever said, “Growing old is not for sissies” knew what they were talking about. Take facial hair, for instance. On men, it’s part of the job description. On ladies, it’s upsetting and unattractive. It definitely doesn’t make a girl feel pretty. I routinely go on chin hair patrol. This can be done while watching TV, reading a book, or driving a car. I am really good about using my Bluetooth hands-free earpiece when I talk on the phone while driving. They haven’t passed a law about searching for unsightly facial hair while driving. Until they do, I will continue to hunt. Once the offending follicle is discovered, it is a battle I am unwilling to lose. It doesn’t matter that the hair can’t be seen. As long as I can feel it, it’s gotta go...now. I may start out with a microscopic dot, and end up with a red, scabby crater that can be seen from the Space Shuttle. It doesn’t matter, as long as the hair gets plucked. I keep at it until I win. Once I finally get a death grip on the chin hair, and am able to successfully extract it, I am surprised at its length. What may have seemed like a speck usually turns out to be about eight feet long. Where did that subterranean part hang out? Was it attached to my pancreas? Perhaps that explains why chin hairs take so much effort to pull out. After all that work, they grow back in a couple weeks. My poor scarred chin barely has time to heal before a new onslaught begins. I suppose I could just wait until enough is poking out before I begin the plucking process. I worry about falling down and knocking myself out, though, and waking up 3 weeks later with a full beard. Definitely not for sissies.