It’s TMI Tuesday internet, and I need to get something off my chest. Okay, not my chest so much, but my chin, cheeks and toes all agree that this stray hair business is a little outa control.
It all started when I was right out of high school and a good friend of mine informed me that I was dangerously close to a uni-brow. She loved me enough to hold me down and assault me with a pair of tweezers, plucking my eyebrows into submission. That’s a true friend people.
In my mid-20’s, I had the unpleasant discovery that my face was trying to grow new eyebrows in totally random places. My chin, my cheeks, my upper lip were all subject to random outcroppings of hair. What to do, what to do?! I confess to giving in to shaving my face on occasion. Mea Culpa.
Then, to add major insult to injury, a few years ago I realized that hair was growing… on my big toes. And not those fine, white hairs either. Of course not. It was like hobbit feet! (Ok, not really, but the trauma was real!) So, I started shaving my big toes along with the rest of my legs. And almost immediately experienced the joy of a razor knick on that wrinkly part of the toe knuckle.
This is not my foot. But it is a good representation of how my foot feels.
Can you feel my pain internet?
So now, I’m just done. I hate shaving. I hate waxing. I hate plucking. I’m considering shelling out the big bucks for permanent hair removal. Except I don’t really know how expensive that is and truthfully, I hate the idea of spending money on such a vanity. But it’s tempting. Oh my, it’s tempting.
Alternatively, I could go the european route and go “au naturale”. But that would likely freak the chicken of anyone seeing me in a skirt. And I’m not sure that hubby would support that particular endeavor.
So I’ll soldier on, plucking and shaving. Bitching and moaning. It’s part of my appeal, I think.