Growing Up In Oz

Yesterday as I was wiping the fog from the mirror and getting ready to apply my foundation I was stopped dead in my tracks. Much to my horror, I noticed several very blonde & very long chin hairs dangling from my face. I wiped the mirror again with the towel again in hopes the perhaps it was some sort of optical illusion from the condensation and the light.

It wasn’t.

See here’s the thing, I couldn’t  remember seeing those chin hairs the day before when I was getting ready. So either my body is sprouting random hairs at a growth rate that clearly needs to be the study of scientists, or I just didn’t notice them and have possibly been walking around with a quasi-beard for an unknown period time.

Not able to handle the possibility of either option, I began digging through my make-up drawer for my tweezers which were conveniently where nowhere to be found. I opened the cabinet and went into my “old makeup” drawer filled with pink glitter eye shadow & bonne bell lip glosses in hopes of finding a back up pair.

No dice.

I checked the medicine cabinet, the kids bathroom & my husband’s drawer (although if you’ve ever met my husband you know that he has never once touched a pair of tweezers… trust me).

Nada.

It was time to weigh my options: razor or scissors.

I immediately gravitated toward the scissors. In my head I just remember my mom telling me when I was a young child that I didn’t want to start shaving my legs early because it would just grow back thick and black and then I’d have to shave every day for the rest of my life. For the record, I still have blonde hair on my legs and I consider myself a beauty queen if I manage to shave 1 time per week. Still, I wasn’t about to prove my mom right with my face so I grabbed the scissors and began to trim those dangly little bastards like a boss.

Face to face with the mirror I began noticing all of the other hair on my face. Above my lips, on my cheeks, on my forehead. Horrified & perplexed… I stood there for a brief moment & considered trimming it all. But then I was worried about the stubble it would (might?) cause & then I started to freak out because OMG I’m going to have stubble on my chin and how do I explain to my husband why I’m leaning over our bathroom counter with my face smashed in the mirror and scissors in one hand and a razor in the other at 5 a.m. in the morning.

Clearly, 30 is gearing up to welcome me with open arms.

P.S. Really, tell me… are these chin hairs going to grow back longer because I cut them?

P.P.S. What’s coming next? I already pee myself every time I sneeze, jump, laugh or cough and my boobs need a miracle bra to be in the right place. What else is there?

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