Electric Youth (or however you choose to get it)

I have been noticing something. 

I am noticing that my hair is beginning to break, right above my forehead, just as it did in the months following Jack's birth.  That's no fun. 

Except, the last time my hair broke I was postpartum and twenty-seven.  So my naturally brown hair had little stand-up fly-aways everywhere and so it goes.  They minorly annoyed me and I sprayed them down every day until they grew out.

But this time my hair is breaking post-childbirth at the age of thirty. 

And For The Love Of Pete, all of the broken brown hairs have invited their white pals to the party.  Tens and hundreds of snow white hairs that didn't bother me so much when they blended nicely into a tight long-ish ponytail, but now they stand at attention each morning and greet the day with their little white broken ends held high as if begging the sun, "Bleach us more! Make us shine!" 

Fabulous.

So I was pretty okay with The Old previous to this discovery because I am long married with three children and somehow Old fits somewhere in that equation, yes?  Except then I pointed my poor broken hairs out to the fool that did this to me my unconditionally loving husband, and?  He snickered.

(Entire readership of unavoidably aging women light torches, draw weapons.)

Which totally did notthrow me into a mental fit of Whooooo's offspring I carried nine months times three stretch marks c-section scar for miles don't you dare snicker buddy do you realize all that I have done for you by the way?  Did you think you were marrying Age Twenty-Two forever? 

Nope, there was none of that business.

So when I hopped out of the shower the next day, I trimmed a couple inches from the length of my hair, encouraging myself to wear it down...to hide The Old around my face...until my dear friend Di Bottle could come for a visit.

And next I applied moisturizer to my skin because hot damn, I'm sure the wrinkles are on their way too.  And I opened my new bottle of foundation- the one that actually matches my winter skin tone, and I put that on, too.  Just after I plucked and reshaped my eyebrows.

Then I noticed the final piece of this here puzzle.

The little broken hairs at the top of my head invited fine young friends to the scene.  Except they were obviously given the wrong damn address because they arrived at none other than my chin.

(Crowd sighs something pitiful.)

This called for action. 

Immediate, inhospitable, unpleasant, down right awful action.

 

So the next morning, just before my shower, I got to work. 

Quick and easy, no doubt.

Yep, just going to gently warm the strip in the palm of my ultra-gorgeous model-like hands, freshly filed and manicured pointy finger nails, and then I'm going to TEAR THOSE SUCKAHS RIGHT OUTTA THERE.

Nah, I don't know what that says either.

So I got to work with the warming and the brave talk and I carefully puuuuulled the strips apart just like in the picture, and I planted those babies on the underside of my face and held my breath and..

...hooooooooooooooly shitthathurt.

But they were gone, just like that. 

Successsss.

So I thought to my brilliant self, I might as well get those little puppies right above my upper lip while I'm at it, yes?

No warming this time because most assuredly those sticky strips from hell were primed and ready for action.  Writing off the zit beneath my nose, I stuck 'em on there just above my lip.  Brave talk, Ready Ready Ready, PULLLLLLLLL!

Oh damn, that was worse than the first time.

Oh no?

Nothing came out.  Pain, no gain?

Try again. 

Press Press Press, tighten stomach muscles, brave face, hesitate, hesitate, PULLLLLLLL.

Nothing. 

Nothing but little hairs NOW COVERED IN STICKY BEADS OF WAX. 

Crap.

Reapply wax strips, Press Press Press until underlying teeth are bruised, Brave Face, Tense Up, PULLLLLLLL!

Nothing.  Again.

By now, of course my infant daugher has woken from her four minute nap and is protest crying for why she must wait in this miserable entertainment-filled wooden-slatted baby container for more than the usual twelve second shower, and my face is red and brow is furled and I'm muttering CURSE WORDS AT MY GIRL-STACHE and telling my daughter to juuuust wait, cause she'll get hers.  All the while priming another set of strips because there's no turning back now- I'm already tarred with the leftover wax and the sticky stache - all that waits are feathers.  Or random airborne dog hairs and white pollen poofies.  Then it's all over, for sure.

Warm Warm Warm, Press Press Press, Stomach Muscles, Brave Face, PULLLLLLLLLL!

Oh my God relief.

Only a thin layer of wax left.  No hairs, no skin.

I poke my head out the bathroom door and attempt to speak soothing words to my impatient baby, but my lip and my chin are completely numb and all I can mutter is MMMM MMM MOWB.  And that's no help.

I crank the shower water as hot as it can go, because of course in this Quick & Easy To Use Beauty Regime, I must now melt the leftover wax off my face. 

Now made new with short hair and fresh eyebrows and Di Bottle waiting in the wings, and not a facial hair in sight as I scorch my brightly reddened face to melt the wax, I can't help but wonder if I am avoiding The Old or fleeing the country, in secret. 

And the more I thought about it as the hot water beat on my face, the more I realized that most definitely, Solo tiene que presionary tirar! means, Don't bother, Silly Stupid Lady! It's only going to grow back...you're in your thirrrrties now!  (That's the long meaning, of course.)

Comments

[CPA Mom]

I'm sorry, but this made me laugh out loud the entire time I was reading it. Man, I was howling! Why? Because I could totally see me doing that. And I'm in desperate need of a visit from Di Bottle too.

And I'm almost 40. Damn. How did that happen?

(p.s. I totally lit those torches at Keven!)

[Stephanie]

Shit. I am 27 and have been plucking my freckle based chin hair for five years. The worst part is that it use to be one that grew two inches over nite. Now? It is about ten. All in one freckle. At least I know where to seek and find.

[BetteJo]

Wait till you get to my age - you get chin hairs but your eyes are so bad you can't see them! Sigh-h.

(almost 50)

[SJ]

Oh you poor thing! I'm so afraid of the whole waxing thing I applaud you for giving it a shot. I'm just too chicken! Oh, and when you are done with Miss Di, send her my way, would ya?

[Christina]

Waxing at home is never worth it! Yikes! Baby oil sometimes helps to take off the excess. I dont bother anymore, I just pay the $13 for my upper lip and am done with it. You're right about it growing back:( Its every 14 day appt.

So the hair issue. It's not breaking, it's gowing! That's all new hair, it starts gowing in just after you give birth and around 4-5 months it's finally long enough to stand at attention. As long as you dont have anymore babies it shouldnt do it to this degree again until "THE CHANGE"

[Erin]

I can not stop laughing!!! Thank you for giving a glimpse into the wonderful world of being a woman. I am still laughing out loud!

[Stacey]

I'm 32. Wrinkles? Got 'em. 1st gray hair? Pulled it the month I turned 30. But wait. There will be CHIN HAIRS? Shit.

Damn, Molly, that was THE funniest thing I've read in a long time. Soooo glad you shared.

[Annette]

Been there, done that. Depilitory (burns skin), do-it-yourself wax (doesn't really work), plucking (too time consuming and at times painful)..... Lazer removal (works good but expensive - so had to stop before all follicles were zapped - and painful).... Now: Plucking until the whole army shows up in a surprise attack overnight at which time it is a professional waxing.

Also, watch you neck. Those little buggers can make an appearance there also.

[Jen L.]

I feel ya, sister. I'm steadily growing a stripe of gray hairs, but only on one side of my head. My husband? IS JEALOUS. He wants gray. He's 6 1/2 years older than me and does not have ONE gray hair. At 37. Let's light torches at him, too.

I have one really coarse chin hair and one neck hair that seems to go from nothing to 4 inches long overnight. Aren't your thirties awesome? (gaaaaaah)

By the way, (not that you would after the experience you just described) DO NOT use those wax strips on your bikini line! I speak from experience. Bad. Baaaaaaaaaaad.

[Jenny]

I used to have like 2 or three under my chin and one that grew out of my chin. But now, a whole bunch of their friends show up constantly. And Annette is right about the neck. Been there already too. And of course I've told you about the one that grows out of the middle of my forehead...explain THAT one!

[Erica]

I was laughing out loud, but trying not to, so I wouldn't wake the childrens. Good lord you are funny. I've tried those wax strips and have decided I would rather pay some sadistic person to rip my hair out, than try it myself. So I bow to you!

[Cindy]

OH MY GOD MOLLY!!! You have my rolling on the floor!! I can just picture you in the bathroom doing all of this!!! Oh my friend.....I feel for you.

Call you later.

[Michelle Zoromski]

I highly recommend plucking those chin hairs. Not that I know anything about that.... just saying! haha

[Parsing Nonsense]

This post made me giggle fiercely! Sorry for your waxing foibles, but gosh dang if that doesn't make for some entertaining blog material!

[glamgranola]

A blessing of being blonde, still no grey hair on my head. But my chin? Those suckers may not be black but they are as stiff as fishing line, and grey... Gross.

[elizabeth]

I only laugh because I know JUST what you are going through!

[Elizabeth]

oh, the pain!
I spotted a gal in the car line at the bank once plucking her chin hairs. I thought "how could she?" but now...I get it. We need light. I myself need light AND magnifying glasses.
Maybe we go blind so we can't see our flaws?