getting old’s a bitch

There is a single hair that occasionally grows out of my chin. This started after I hit thirty. I’m not a hirsute person, so this turn of events was quite shocking at the time. But, you deal. Since then, in my desire to make sure the hair never grows into a length best described as “whisker,” I’ve developed a sort of tic. I quite regularly rub this one spot on my chin to check for the hair. As soon as it just barely breaks the surface, out come the tweezers and out goes the hair.

What I didn’t know is there was an attack coming from the other side. This morning, as I stood in front of the mirror about to dry my hair, I noticed something. It must have been the way the sunlight was coming through the window because I’d never noticed it before. This hair was soooo long, I thought it must be a dog hair somehow stuck to my chin. Nope. Chin hair. And of a length that would suggest surely someone in my life noticed it and didn’t say anything. Granted the hair was blonde or white, so it wasn’t so easy to see, but I still have the feeling that I must have been talking to someone at some point recently, in direct sunlight, and they must have noticed this supercharged follicle. And didn’t say a word. Bastards.

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