By Barrie Bismark
Dear random chin hair,
I first noticed you several years ago when I looked in the mirror to put on my makeup one morning. I noticed something black poking out of my chin. At first, I thought you were just a stray hair, and I could just brush you away. But then you didn’t brush. I looked a little bit closer and that is when I had the horrifying realization that you were, in fact, attached. To my chin. My 20-something chin.
There you were in all your coarse, black glory, sprouting your prickly head out of the bottom of my young chin. Of course, I immediately plucked you away and just assumed you were a rogue, one-time visitor. But I was wrong. So very wrong. You kept coming back, over and over again for years. You have now started to invite a couple friends along with you.
I am here to tell you that I have had enough. I’m done. You need to know that I truly hate your guts. Really. I frickin hate you with every fiber of my being.
Where do you come from? Why do you think that my chin is a good place to call your home? Everyone knows that women are not supposed to have facial hair. It seems to me that perhaps you are seriously confused. I am not a man. I have never been a man. Let me explain further. I can’t do any of the things that men can do…like, I can’t pee standing up; I don’t adjust myself in public (I have nothing to adjust); I don’t greet people by looking at their chests; and I didn’t have a beard…at least I didn’t until you started showing up unannounced and unwelcome on my chin.
I realize that one or two measly black chin hairs every now and again is not the end of the world. Maybe not to you, anyway. I really can see why you chose me and the appeal of my lovely, oily and warm chin to grow out of. But here’s the thing… I don’t want you. I never wanted you. All you are to me is a terrible reminder that I am slowly turning into a masculine old hag. A reminder that things just steadily go downhill as we age. A reminder that I will just get fatter, sweatier, and hairier; it’s only a matter of time. What’s next, a thick, black mustache?
So, despicable, nasty black chin hair. I hate your guts. Take the hint. GO AWAY. You are not welcome to take up residence on my chin. Take this letter as a warning. If I see you again, I’ll pluck you immediately and possibly consider laser-removal. Watch it, you asshole.
Me and my chin
About the Author
I’m Barrie. I’m sarcastic, vocal, stubborn, strong willed, and kind of a pain in the ass. I have a husband who I have been married to for 11 years and three beautiful children boy (8), girl (6), and girl (3). I love spending as much time as I can with my husband and children. Being a mom is one of the hardest things I have ever done, but also one of the most rewarding. I am amazed every day at the chaos, laughs, adventures, and exhaustion that motherhood brings. Life is a shit show! Embrace the crazy. I have been featured on Scary Mommy, Parent Co., Sammiches and Psych Meds, Her View from Home, For Every Mom, and am a regular contributing writer on Suburban Misfit Mom and Modern Mom. Follow along on my blog, Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.