I have a hair that sprouts from a mole on my chin. At certain times of the year, particularly when my grooming routine has taken a backseat, this hair seems to multiply, creating a mini colony of chin hairs atop my mole. During these moments, you can find me cooped up in my bathroom, lights ablaze, with incense burning, desperately plucking away at these unruly strands, fearing the day I might resemble a circus performer.
The challenge with hairs from moles—much like any unwanted hair—is that they must reach a certain length before you can effectively remove them. Whether you prefer waxing or tweezing, this is an unfortunate truth: they have to be long enough to see and grasp before they can be eliminated. And if I can see them, it’s almost guaranteed that others can too.
The satisfaction of pulling out one of these chin hairs is akin to the joy of popping a pimple. Each time, I’m astonished by the sheer length of what lies beneath, like a dark iceberg hiding in the ocean of my face. Eyebrow hairs, on the other hand, are a softer breed compared to my robust chin hairs. These delicate strands tend to be light and require precision to remove. The satisfaction simply doesn’t compare to the proud, steadfast chin hair. In fact, I sometimes wish my eyebrows would sprout with the same vigor as the chin hair, rather than remaining a frail fuzz.
It wasn’t until my mid-20s that someone drew attention to my eyebrow situation. A flamboyant stylist named Chris, with a vibrant personality, remarked in horror, “Your eyebrows stop halfway across your eyes! Did you know you only have half an eyebrow?” His disbelief was clear as he suggested I invest in an eyebrow pencil, which I eventually did—much to my relief.
Shortly after that revelation, my chin hair began to emerge fully. Perhaps it had been lying dormant, a lighter version of its future self, but once it witnessed my newfound fondness for dark, penciled-in features, it decided to make a bold debut. Since then, I’ve waged a persistent war against it, but it often claims victory.
After having children, I discovered yet another surprise—a few long hairs on the backs of my thighs. Not a full-on jungle, but a couple of remarkably long hairs that appear to defy logic, as if they are making a slow escape from my body. This addition to my post-pregnancy body is just one of many things I now contend with.
Despite my mixed feelings, I can’t help but admire my chin hair. Its tenacity is commendable; no matter how much I pluck, it continues to grow back, a testament to its resilience. Perhaps I should consider writing a story about it. Oh wait—I just did.
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In summary, my journey with chin hair has been one of horror, admiration, and plenty of plucking. It serves as a reminder of the challenges and surprises that come with aging and motherhood.