Dear Face,
It seems you’ve forgotten a crucial detail: I’m not a man, and I definitely don’t desire a beard or any unexpected patches of hair you seem so eager to provide. So, could you please stop?
Perhaps you’ve always wanted to be a scalp instead, taking your one shot at it. I get it; we all have aspirations. But to be clear, my aspirations do not involve resembling a character from “Duck Dynasty” or anyone named Phil, for that matter.
I was willing to overlook the eyebrow situation, even though they resembled two caterpillars inching across my forehead. Once I discovered tweezers in high school, I achieved the same skinny brows as every other respectable 90s girl. I didn’t fault you for that — I was just relieved that brow (over)plucking was the extent of my facial hair maintenance. Shaping my brows into pencil-thin perfection was enough work, and high school was tough enough without the added pressure of a mustache. I wanted to be noticed by teenage boys, not envied for my mustache-growing abilities.
But adulthood brought its own set of challenges. The carefree days of brow grooming were over. I don’t know if it was hormonal changes or a silent vendetta from my face due to my tweezing, or maybe karma saying, “I saw you smirking in high school when you didn’t grow a mustache.” Whatever the reason, I was gifted a full-on beard. A stray hair or two would have been manageable, but no — you went all out, giving me what I can only describe as a chin carpet. If I didn’t maintain it, I’d be rocking some serious hipster vibes. It started innocently with a little stubble, but after four pregnancies, I’ve reached a point where I might outgrow my husband’s beard. One day, I hope to embrace it, or at least stop caring enough to try. But that day is not today.
And if that’s not enough, let’s talk about the upper lip situation. One morning, while carpooling to the gym, my friend casually asked, “Do you ever wax your upper lip?” It was wrapped in a veil of innocence, but I could see right through it — she noticed my perfectly illuminated peach fuzz. It was one of those tactful hints that played in my mind, mixing gratitude and deep offense. So, I started waxing my upper lip too.
I won’t even dive into the horror of discovering three rogue black neck hairs a few weeks ago. Really, neck hairs? It’s already bad enough that my face has betrayed me, but now my neck?
Face, I know you’re tired of me plucking hairs left and right. So please, stop sprouting new ones. With chin, lip, and brows under control, the only hairs left are my eyelashes. And if they start acting up, they’ll be gone too. I am completely fed up with growing hair anywhere that isn’t on my head or in those troublesome areas puberty designated. You’re free to cease your random hair production at any time. Seriously. Perhaps focus on wrinkling instead; at least that’s part of your job description, even if I’m not too thrilled about it.
In summary, it’s time to put an end to this facial hair madness. Enough is enough!
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This article discusses the trials of unexpected facial hair, the nuances of beauty standards, and the often-frustrating journey of self-grooming. For more insights on this topic, visit Modern Family Blog.