Why do you always show up so unexpectedly? Like when I’m driving down the road and the sun is hitting my face, so I put the visor down and I’m at a stop light and I’m checking my teeth in the mirror (or something), and suddenly I see you. You’re just there, growing out of my chin in a place you weren’t yesterday. And you’re almost an inch long. An inch long over night, Chin Whisker. And for the love of god, now that I can see you, I can’t un-see you. I know you are there, so I will not stop thinking about you, and touching you until I finally get home where you’ll have a private “playdate” with my tweezers. But first I’ll have to take you grocery shopping with me. And I’ll have to take you to my kid’s game. And you’ll just be there, hanging out. An inch long. Over night.
Oh, and since we’re on the subject of my displeasure with wayward hair, same goes for you, Ingrown Bikini Line. You and the all the other unruly pubes you call your friends can shove it. I’m sick of dealing with you, maintaining you, tending to you. I’m tired of trimming the hedges non-stop. It’s like you’re snorting Miracle-Gro or something. Seriously, I’m not looking for you to be some prize-winning bush at the county fair or anything, but I do enjoy neat edges, as they are aesthetically pleasing. You seem to have a mind of your own these days, and it’s got to stop.
I’d also like to admonish you, Mr. Light and Fuzzy Mustache while I’m at it. You don’t seem to give a shit that you are on my face. Apparently you don’t discriminate when it comes to male or female faces. Like a fly to glistening macaroni salad at a picnic, you keep coming back, despite my best efforts to shoo you away. You are a staunch defender of equal rights under the mustache constitution, but my upper lip is just not an ideal place to park it. Be gone!
Underarm, I only have one thing to say to you: Could you at least try to grow all in the same direction? Why is that such a difficult skill? You are a bit of a scatter-brain it seems. Why is everything so haphazard and off-kilter under there? For such a small plot of land, you sure do require a precise and steady shaving hand. I guess you can’t really see which way you’re growing in the dark, but it makes for a very complicated removal job, just sayin’.
Since I appear to be off on a tangent of hair grievances right now, I’d like to officially complain about big toe and “top of the foot” hair. Why. Just, why.
Finally, let’s discuss the random Nipple Fur, shall we? I mean, honestly, like I don’t have enough to deal with, I also have to have some more little tiny hairs growing around my nipples? A while back, my doctor quite casually said, “Don’t worry, it’s normal and natural to have a few stray hairs growing around your areolas,” to which I gruffly replied, “Thanks, doc,” in my lowest baritone voice on purpose, because let’s face it, nipple hair, however slight, does not make any woman on the planet feel feminine, not even for one second.
Listen, I truly don’t care about any of my many hairs dispersed throughout my body. I could care less what your landscaping preference is either — no judgment here! Love it and keep it, or hate it and get rid of it — either approach is perfectly fine, normal, natural, whatever. It’s your body, and it’s none of my business. And for the record, all bodies are beautiful, exactly as they are. But if I’m being honest, I’m not a big fan of the random hairs on my own.
And the older I get, the less order in the court there is. Every last hair on my body, wherever it appears has become “something I have to deal with.” I dutifully make my rounds each day — a quick glance at the ‘stache, check under the arms, scrutinize the chin and brows, examine the feet. Neaten up the bikini line, side-eye the nips. It’s time-consuming. Because of the maintenance, my showers are getting longer and longer, and when it comes to all the places I need to focus on, there doesn’t appear to be a “topping off” if you will. There is a hair mutiny happening in both my upper and lower regions. And I’m fed up.
But I guess I could always just stop caring and “clean house” only when I have company coming over. That usually works.