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It’s a hairy situation

If I ever end up in a home for the bewildered, I have a pact with my daughter to pluck my chin hairs.

My greatest fear about growing old is not ending up in a home, or having to wear Depends. It is that my eyes will get so bad I won’t notice my chin hairs are reaching my nipples. (Which will be dragging on the floor by then anyway!)

I know beauty is on the inside, yadda, yadda, yadda, but I can’t handle the facial hair thing.

Along with everything else menopause brings you can add excessive facial hair to the list.

This proves God is a man! Because if God was female, when women reached menopause their stomachs would get flatter, their breasts would get firmer and they would remember why they went upstairs and would only have to pee once per day.

It has become an all out war between me and my hormones.

I wake up in the morning, turn on my magnifying makeup mirror and began the daily hunt-and-peck. I feel like an adolescent boy searching for those first signs of becoming a man, except, I am not a man. I am a middle aged woman going through menopause and giving Mother Nature the middle finger on a daily bases. I run my fingers under my chin, I can feel one but I just can’t find it. At least they are now coming in white so I don’t notice them right away. A new trick I learned is to run my mascara lightly over the area then they are easy to find.

It’s so unfair. Hair on a man’s body denotes strength and sexiness. Hair on a woman’s body denotes old hag. While I am plucking hair out, hubby is in the bathroom mirror wishing he could grow some back.

I wish he could go through menopause.

Let’s face it, no man dreams of Jeanie with the light brown hair…. on her upper lip and chin.

I tried laser hair removal at a fancy spa. $1500 later the over Botoxed, over face pulled lady told me “Oh, it doesn’t work on white or blond hair. You should try electrolysis.”


You couldn’t tell me that $1500 ago?

I spent weeks letting her zap me with a laser, which feels like someone snapping you with an elastic band, only to find out it doesn’t work on light hair! I would have grabbed her by the short and curlys but from the dark brown hair on her head I got the feeling she didn’t have any.

So I tracked down one of the few people in town who can do Electrolysis. Believe me, you don’t want to go to someone who doesn’t know what they are doing. For $20 and 15 minutes, my new friend Debbie solved my facial hair problem in 4 weeks. Now I just go back for a touch up every month or so. Keep in mind electrolysis is not pain free. She inserts a needle in the hair follicle and zaps it. It hurts a little more than plucking with tweezers but a lot less than being snapped with an elastic band. It also works on blond hair as well as dark. Now that Debbie has rid me of my chin hairs, she’s doing my eye brows and side burns. Apparently I am turning in to Chewbacca in my old age.

Now you know what they say, “A hair on the chin is worth two in the bush.” So Debbie introduced me to the Brazilian. (This is where men should stop reading. You wouldn’t be able to take the pain.)

The Brazilian proved to me that I could survive Guantanamo Bay while laughing in the face of my captors. She tells me some clients take an Ativan before a waxing, some have a few drinks and get their husbands to drop them off.

Not me. I go in drug and alcohol free and let this 5”2, 100 pound Ninja pour hot wax over my Who-Ha and rip the hair from my body. I am from Freshwater Road, so I am tough as nails.

It’s no longer uncomfortable now. We talk about our kids, vacations, she’s wearing rubber gloves while spreading hot wax with a pop-cycle stick.

We never talk about politics or religion. That would be weird.

I don’t want to split hairs but everyone has their own pain level.

Let me describe the pain level… It’s a real hair raising experience.

Now, I’ve given birth twice and had a six hour back surgery. So I know pain.

The first rip is like being kicked in the Who-ha. I can’t lie.

The second one is like walking on a Lego block without socks on. By the time you’re half way through, the endorphins kick in and you can’t feel anything. By the time it’s over you just want to go home, roll up in a ball and rock for a while. The next day, you feel great and you book another appointment.

Ladies, this is something you do not want to try at home! The last thing you need is to be locked in your bathroom after pouring hot wax on yourself and chicken out. When that wax goes cold, it becomes sealing wax and closes up all holes around it. You will have to call the Fire Department to help you out and ask them to bring the Jaws of Life.

Although, Debbie tells me she does her own Brazilian. Now that’s a woman I would follow into battle.

So menopause has thrown me another curve ball but Mother Nature is not winning this round. Not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin. I won’t be letting my hair down anytime soon.

I’ve also made a pact with my Bestie, Nancy, if we end up in a senior’s home we will pluck each other’s chin hairs.

It’s a pinky promise that we will not see hide nor hair in our old age.

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