Those Pesky Chin Hairs {IYKYK} :: A Cautionary Tale

Those Pesky Chin Hairs {IYKYK} :: A Cautionary Tale

When I was a young girl I used to cringe when my mom would pluck her chin hairs. I found it so embarrassing when she would do it at a red light where people could possibly SEE her. I would sink down into the front seat and try to cover my face. I did this because, at 13, if someone saw you sitting in the car next to your mom plucking her tiny black hairs off her chin then they would never, ever talk to you again. The whole school would probably shun you, you would never get a boyfriend and then you would live the rest of your life alone. I mean, that’s how my 13-year-old brain worked, anyway.

Now, here I am, 32-years-old with an (almost) 13-year-old and I have, not one, but TWO pairs of tweezers in the cupholder of my car at all times.

When did this happen? When did my smooth, hairless chin that, maybe, exhibited a pimple on occasion, start sprouting these thick, stiff, DARK little hairs? I have become afraid of my reflection in natural sunlight because something about that particular lighting just puts those little goblins on full display. It feels like my chin hairs are being exposed like the stains on Room Raiders when they would whip out the black light in the final round. If you understand this reference then you’re most likely dealing with chin hairs, too.

With that being said, natural sunlight is also the best lighting to use when you are in the process of removing said chin hairs from your face.

This is why, I have found, my mom always plucked her chin hairs in the car. And also, why I now pluck my chin hairs in the car as well. I don’t have time to worry about who might see me at the red light because, honestly, talking to Terri in the break room at work with a giant black whisker pointing at her is more humiliating to me. Some might question whether or not the car is the most suited location for whisker hunting and I always said that as long as you are at a complete stop there’s no harm.

Well, let me inform you- I’m not always right.

Picture it: it’s a Thursday during lunch time rush, I am sitting at a red light waiting to turn into Wal-Mart because we are out of vitamins and milk at home. And because I take advantage of any opportunity to browse the shelves at Wally World for my next impulse buy. I flip down the mirror to take a glance at myself and notice that, overnight, I have harvested a cluster of repulsive chin hairs. I immediately reached for my tweezers, the red pair because those are the heavy duty ones, and began plucking at hyper speed. I noticed the truck in front of me started moving so I started creeping along while keeping one eye on the last of the overnight cluster and, somehow, in my hyper-focused stupor of the lone surviving chin hair I came to a sudden, loud, STOP.

My stomach dropped to my butt and I shouted some very church-inappropriate obscenities.

I see the driver, whose truck I just gave a gnarly shove to, throw his hands in the air (probably shouting the same words as I just did). I followed him into the nearest parking lot and jumped out as soon as I stopped to ask him if he was okay and if anyone was in the vehicle with him. He tells me he’s alone and completely fine and then I begin apologizing profusely. Before I even thought to look at my own front bumper I ran around to check his, which isn’t even scratched. And while I’m checking on his bumper, this angel of a man is checking on MY bumper. He was still in his work jumper, possibly on his lunch break as well, looking like he could retire any day but probably hasn’t because he “just loves his job”. He had “Joe P.” sewn onto his chest and he really seemed like that kind of person. He starts telling me not to worry about it, that his old “hunk of junk” isn’t worth any insurance claims anyway. Of course I couldn’t let sweet, Mr. Joe P. off that easily. I said, “Mr. Joe, I have been a complete idiot, please let me at least give you my phone number in case you change your mind. I have been a stupid negligent driver and I cannot fathom the thought of not being held accountable”. Mr. Joe P. looks at me and says, “Honey, looking at the crack on your bumper right now tells me that not only is Hyundai much better built than it looks, it also tells me that we are both lucky enough to walk away from this without complicating this any further. You get back in your car and don’t worry about this for another minute.” Ya’ll. Joe P. had me almost in tears. I sent flowers to Mr. Joe P. at his place of work the next day (it was on his uniform) because I could not stop thinking about how sweet and genuine this kind little man was. Of course that doesn’t change the fact that I still have a crack in my bumper and have to tell my husband HOW the crack got there. That will be another story entirely.

Anyway, the moral of the story: don’t pluck your chin hairs at the red light. I know, it seems safe as long as you’re stopped but one day your focus might just slip and you may not rear end someone as wholesome as Mr. Joe P.