Not By the Hair of My Chinny, Chin, Chin

I’m not particularly excited about getting old, but it beats the alternative. I feel like I’m taking most of the things that come with aging in stride. However, there is one thing I’m incredibly bitter about: chin hairs.

What kind of dark magic, bull shit are chin hairs on a woman? What woman hasn’t, in a moment of weakness, thought bangs were a great idea? Then they discover, about three weeks in, they look like Moe from The Three Stooges? It will take the next two years to grow those bangs back out, if you’re lucky. Yet, you can examine your face thoroughly in the mirror at 7 a.m. and all be well. Then, you go to the bathroom at lunch and see a chin hair no less than an inch-long catch the light. It’s witchcraft!

It also happens overnight. I was about 47 when my first chin hair made an appearance. I was appalled and embarrassed. How did this happen? Was I now THAT woman? You know the one. She is wearing a moo-moo, forgot her dentures at home and has curlers in her hair at 2 p.m. in the grocery store. She never looks in the mirror, because if she did, surly she would notice she has a five o’clock shadow.

After that first hair, they continue to spring up unannounced. There is no rhyme or reason. I will sometimes go months without one of these unwelcomed guests. Other times, they show up and bring friends. There are days when I feel like a long-lost member of ZZ Top. Mother Nature has a sick sense of humor.

I now keep a pair of tweezers in my purse. You never know when the lighting will be just right to catch one of these fuckers hanging out and waving at passersby. I find natural light is the best and have spent many an afternoon in the parent pick-up line at my daughter’s school plucking my chin. My car. My business.

I have also threatened my husband within an inch of his life. If he sees a chin hair, I expect it to be reported immediately. It really is a fine line on who you want to tell you about this situation. On one hand, you want to know so you can nip it in the bud. On the other hand, do you really want the cute guy at the liquor store offering you a razor?

My sister is like a honey badger attacking a cobra when it comes to chin hairs. As soon as I enter a room with her, I feel her surveying my face. She is diligent about hair removal. She is always shaving, waxing or plucking something. Nothing makes her happier than to detect a rouge hair of some sort. It’s nerve-racking.

At the end of the day, it is really just tough aging as a woman. I’m trying so hard to accept it with a tiny bit of grace. I’ve gone gray. I have put on a few pounds. I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust at times. I draw the line at facial hair. So, I will keep my tweezers holstered at my side like Dirty Harry, if I must. And for the love of God, if you are a woman “of a certain age” and see a hair on my chin, please tell me.

Follow me on social @kyspiritsgal and check out previous blog posts at www.kyspiritsgal.com. Cheers!

Angela Traver

What is this blog about? Well, it's a general blog, but it is also a very specific blog. If you get that reference, you get a gold star! I have been a public relations professional and writer of press releases for more than 20 years—primarily in the booze biz. I decided to do some writing for fun and embrace the humor that gets me through most days. Hopefully it will make you chuckle—or at least smile. I’m a certified crazy magnet, and more than a little nutty myself, so buckle up. Also, I have two vices—profanity and red wine/whiskey. You’ve been warned. It should also be noted, that I’m a HUGE Bob & Sheri fan. I’ve been a listener for more than 20 years. This opportunity is a dream come true and it may have made me cry. That being said, I cry at everything. If you are into booze, dogs, food and/or knitting, hit me up on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter (although I’m terrible at Twitter and it scares me) @kyspiritsgal. You can also find all my previous blog posts at www.kyspiritsgal.com.