It’s been bothering me ever since I saw those silly Census 2010 pictures of myself. Every time I look in the mirror, I wonder is it there or is it not? That is my mustache.
I have always been self conscious about hair and facial hair in particular. My mother unluckily inherited the gene where occasionally she gets a few longer blond chin hairs. She has always been very careful to make sure they are gone at first notice. Once my sister told me she too had gotten a long chin hair. I inspect my chin frequently always ready with tweezers just in case that day of doom comes upon me.
The first time I became particularly tuned into my facial hair was in 7th grade. My friend and her mother already had a ritual of using a Nair like product on their mustache. I tried it with her the night we were to be going to a "boy/girl party". It was awful. My upper lip was red and swollen and I’m sure I had some chemical burn. That was the night I had my first kiss. It was also quite awful. Tonsil hockey…really? Someone should have warned me.
Now as I look at my mustache in the mirror my wedding day flashes before me. Will my pictures show a mustache? I wish us women could get a break on this whole hair thing because really I’m sure there is something I could be doing slightly more productive and brain creative than worrying about my facial hair...though I absolutely refuse to be running around with whiskers.
The hair must be annihilated.
No comments:
Post a Comment