So I woke up in a wonderful mood this morning – it is after all, not only a Friday, but a Friday followed by a three day holiday weekend. I bounced out of bed, despite a rather unrestful night. I cleaned up the house, fed all the critters and hopped in the shower. After washing my hair and exfoliating enough to take off several layers of skin, wrinkles, and dry patches, I headed to the mirror for my daily survey of the personal “real estate.” As I turned on my overhead light (which is brighter than a solar eclipse) I leaned over to see if any new lines had appeared while I was off in La La Land. Nope, not a one. We’re off to a good start. I leaned in closer...what the hell is that??? Closer...closer...OMG it’s a freaking NOSE HAIR! I started to hyper-ventilate.
Before you accuse me of overreacting, please understand that I am a fair-skinned redhead. Body hair is not something I have had to contend with as my Greek, Italian, or African American female counterparts have. I don’t grow any wild witchy chin hairs, have any hairy moles, or have five o’clock shadow on my upper lip that could be mistaken for a pornstache. Hell, I don’t have to wax my eyebrows. Even shaving my legs and bikini line is a big “so what.” But today...today...body hair has taken on an entirely different meaning, and not in a good way.
Now, I know nose hairs have been in existence since the beginning of time, along with ear sprouts. And while my dad didn’t live long enough to sport such accessories, I have seen a veritable smorgasboard of older men (and occasionally old women) who have. There is a reason why Wahl is in business, and for years, I have laughed incessantly while walking past the lame “Dad Gift Display” at whatever department store I was in during the holidays or around Father’s Day. Invariably, there it was, next to the automatic change counters and soap on a rope...THE WAHL NOSE HAIR TRIMMER. For the first time in my life, I wondered why I didn’t own one. My life is over.
But here is where my neuroses really kicks in. Unless that one nose hair, which was staring back me in the mirror, was curled up inside my nose waiting for just the right moment to make it’s debut, there is no way it was there yesterday! I mean, in the name of all that it is holy, it was so long that if it had two friends, I could have braided them together and added some beading at the end! It was longer than any of the hair in my “nether-regions” for Chrissakes. I mean, seriously, if it had been there the day before, I am damn sure I would have seen it. I’m meticulous about these things. Suddenly I was wondering if Bill had put Miracle Gro in the saline sinus spray bottle as a practical joke. How could this have happened overnight? If THIS could happen, then who knew what was next. I considered putting the Botox technician on speed dial, but obviously it would have to wait. I had more pressing issues at hand.
I quickly grabbed my tiny scissors and plotted this menacing hair’s demise. I needed a magnifying glass because, of course, along with everything else, my eyesight has gone to hell. But there was no way I could hold the magnifying glass AND the scissors with any sort of grace and skill. I opted for my reading glasses and leaned into the mirror as close as I could. OMG there was a whole ARMY of those little Fckers in there...it was if they had declared war and were preparing for a surprise attack.
I must warn you, if you have never stuck a pair of scissors up your nose in an attempt to actually CUT something, this is no easy feat, even with a pair of the smallest scissors. I momentarily considered using tweezers but decided that unless I started drinking beforehand, that was going to be WAY too painful for me to endure. The scissors would have to do. I carefully committed to my first snip and lopped off the most obtrusive offender. If fell helplessly onto my dresser. I swear I heard it scream. Then I ended the lives of all his little buddies in both nostrils. More light, I need more light. I surveyed the battlefield. It was over. I had won. Not a hair in sight. I was victorious.
So if any of you would like to share your nose-hair story, so I don’t feel like the only female under the age of 75 who has had to endure the heat of battle with these unscrupulous little f$#ckers, please feel free to share.
And for those of you wondering what to get me for Christmas, you can find it in the “Lame Dad Gift” section at your nearest department store.