I wish that when I was younger someone had told me exactly what I was in for as an adult. My eyelids that I used to love decorating with eye shadow are all hangy loose and not cute, my skin went from super oily to OMG I am shedding like a snake dry and the piece de resistance? I have whiskers! Not cool OMG look she really is part Lion ones but these thick, coarse, nasty, super curly ones that crop up on the side of my jawbone and under my chin. I shaved them off the first time I saw them, because I panicked. I just needed them gone right then. Then I leaned on the soft top of my Grand’s head one day and she started screaming, struggling to get away from me. After I checked my breath for stankage and my shirt collar for pokies I wonder aloud if it could be my hair bothering her, so I pulled my tresses back into a bun. I slowly went in for another cuddle and she promptly freaked out. Her mom came to see what I was doing to her baby to make her cry, because she obviously doesn’t believe the kid might just cry for purely personal reasons and shit, it must be me. She bends down and is examining the cuddle zone for the offender and says, ever so nonchalantly,” Hmmm I wonder if she just doesn’t like all those whiskers under there”.
After I handed her the baby, sorta quickly and with a tiny bit of an attitude, while talking trash I looked in the mirror. Holy hell in a handbasket, it was a virtual whiskerpalooza in one freaking spot. There were at least 5 whiskers of varying lengths and coarseness growing from one freaking follicle, I kid you not. I started tearily relating the tale of the shaving and was told, by another one of these smartasses that I had made them more pointy by shaving and was basically sticking needles in the soft little scalp of an infant. After I threatened to reverse my stance on corporal punishment I grabbed the tweezers, snatched the longest one and pulled. Nothing. I went in for a second try and tugged just a tad harder this time. Still nothing. After 6 or 15 attempts at plucking these damn things I begrudgingly handed the tweezers to Picasso who had been evilly rubbing his hands together begging me to let him pluck them. I will spare you a play by play, but will say this:

  1. There was blood
  2. They were all growing from one place
  3. He saved them on a piece of scotch tape
  4. He and his siblings debated on whether or not they should send them to their follicle challenged Uncle.
  5. He tweeted about it

Now I keep a silent but watchful eye out for regrowth and snatch them before they have a chance to reproduce. Eff that I refuse to walk around here sporting a full beard because I have old lady hormones before my time.