Dear Face,
I thought we had an understanding, but it seems you’ve strayed from the agreement. Let me remind you: I am not a man, and I have zero interest in sporting a beard or any other random patches of hair that you seem keen on providing. Seriously, can we just stop this madness?
Maybe you’ve always dreamed of becoming a scalp instead, and you’re just giving it one last shot. I get it; we all have aspirations. But my aspirations do not include resembling Dr. Phil or anyone named Phil for that matter.
I was willing to overlook the eyebrow situation. Sure, they looked like two caterpillars making their way across my forehead, but once I discovered tweezers in high school, I managed to achieve the trendy skinny brows that were all the rage in the ’90s. At that time, I didn’t even blame you for the brow drama because I was secretly relieved that my only facial hair maintenance consisted of plucking those pesky brows. After all, being a teenager was challenging enough without having to worry about a mustache situation as well. I wanted to be admired by teenage boys, not envied for my hair-growing prowess.
Then adulthood hit, and things took a turn. Brows became child’s play. I don’t know if it was adult hormones or some cosmic revenge for my past eyebrow plucking, but suddenly, I found myself dealing with a full-on beard. A stray hair or two I could have handled, but no, you decided to gift me a legitimate chin carpet. It started as a bit of stubble and then blossomed into a full-blown situation with each pregnancy. After four kids, I could probably out-beard my husband at this point. Who knows, maybe one day it will be trendy enough for me to flaunt it—just not today.
And then there’s my upper lip. I didn’t think I had to worry about that until one sunny morning, carpooling to the gym with a friend. She casually asked, “Do you ever wax your upper lip?” It seemed innocent enough, but I could feel the implication beneath her words. That gracious yet mortifying hint replayed in my mind, prompting me to add upper lip waxing to my maintenance routine.
Let’s not even discuss the day I discovered several stubborn neck hairs. Seriously? My face has already betrayed me, but my neck too?
Face, I can’t imagine you’re thrilled with me constantly plucking hairs left and right, so please, cease with the new growth. Chin, lip, brows—at this point, the only hairs left are my eyelashes, and if they start acting up, they’ll be gone too. I am thoroughly exhausted from dealing with hair in places that shouldn’t be a problem. You’re welcome to stop sprouting unwanted strands anytime now. Maybe consider sticking to your job of creating wrinkles—I’m not thrilled about that either, but at least it’s in your job description.
In conclusion, enough is enough. Let’s keep the hair situation under control, and if you’re looking for beauty tips, check out this excellent resource on artificial insemination for more insights. And if you’re interested in boosting your fertility, consider visiting Make A Mom for some helpful supplements.
Summary
This playful yet serious letter addresses the frustrations of unwanted facial hair as one navigates adulthood. From the initial eyebrow struggles to grappling with unexpected beards and mustaches, it highlights the ongoing battle with hair growth that many face. The plea for cooperation from one’s own face serves as a humorous reminder that self-care should be more manageable.