This is a reader story from Kim – poking fun at her ‘wild hair’ and experiencing the circle of life.
I was in my early twenties when my younger brother got married. I remember my sister and I helping our mother get ready for the wedding. We helped her with her makeup and another sister did her hair. A few weeks later, I remember my younger sister (also in her twenties) asking me if I noticed how mom’s skin was around her eyes. When she was putting on the eye shadow and pulled the skin, it didn’t bounce back like our younger skin did. I did notice and dreaded the day my skin responded the same way.
Now I am in my early fifties. The skin around my eyes does the same thing my mother’s did. That doesn’t bother me so much. What does bother me is the random hair.
I have always had blond hair. Eyebrows were something I had to color in a bit with the help of a brown eyebrow pencil. Some plucking was required. As I got closer to my fifties, I noticed that the hair on my face took on a whole new persona. It must be related to reduced levels of estrogen.
Now my eyebrows are wild and taming them is a task that must be attended to on a regular basis. Some are very dark. Some are gray. Some are just long, unruly wires! Where did these wiry eyebrows come from and why do they require the constant plucking and trimming? Add to that the fact that I need 2.75 reading glasses just to see where to pluck. The gray one are nearly impossible to see. All of them are nearly impossible to grasp over the rims of my readers! I am afraid I would end up like one of those old men you often see on TV that never met a hair tweezing or trimming device. With much practice, a good 10x, lighted magnifying mirror, a good set of tweezers and some sharp trimmers, I have managed to tame my brows.
Then there are the whiskers. Yes, you read that right. I am talking about male-like stubble. I will sitting in a meeting and run my hand across my face. To my horror I will feel a big prickly stub or two of a hair. What is worse is when I know it has grown a bit. Undoubtedly it is long and noticeable. There are about a dozen on my face like this and I should just give them each a name because they are returning companions.
For some reason, I do not recognize these little companions during my normal daily grooming regimen. I only notice them as I am driving or sitting in a meeting at work. Once I find one, I become obsessive about getting rid of it. I will not be found without a pair of tweezers because these varmints creep up at the most inopportune times. I have tweezers everywhere. At work, at home, in my purse and in my car. Not just any tweezers will do mind you. Cheap or moderately priced tweezers are not precise enough to grab the little black stub. It takes power tweezers that cost a lot of money and they are worth it! Much to the disgust of my twenty-something daughters, I will drive down the road desperately trying to pluck a stubble. They remind me that people can see through the glass windows. I tell them that people are too busy texting or talking on the phone to worry about my hair plucking episode. For what it is worth, I am conscious of those around me and put the tweezers down if someone can see me.
So it comes full circle. Now my daughters are looking at my skin, my wild hairs and my issues hoping to heaven that they will bypass this experience and maybe they will. My dark haired daughter has been smart. Every time there is a Groupon for laser hair removal, she buys it. She has used one set of treatments for the mustache line. I suspect the aging issues they will encounter in their fifties might be very different from mine. Perhaps they will have none. Technology has advanced in many ways and will continue to do so. In the meantime, if you see a lady driving down the road plucking at her chin, it is probably me.