Day 18 of 365 Tiny Changes
Maybe it’s because I’m in the middle of a flurry of doctor appointments and medical tests, (see Day 13 for details), but I have been really paying attention to the details of my body. Details like that little mole on my left shoulder, or the toenail on my left foot that looks a little weird since I dropped a 2x4 on it last spring.
So, this morning, I’m taking a little closer than normal look at my face and OMG! It’s back! I thought it would wait until January, at least, but holy crap, my mustache is back!
Apparently, it’s one of the benefits of my Greek heritage. Whoopee! I can look at my lineage history and read about great and powerful gods, the Parthenon, the Olympics, and female mustaches.
Yes, it is a fact, and a well guarded secret, that many Greek women have mustaches. There are dark Greeks and light Greeks. My family has descended from the light Greeks. Dark Greek women have notorious mustaches. Light Greek women normally don’t. Until me.
OK, OK, so I’ve known it was bound to re-appear for a while. In the summer when I get a tan, the hair is bleached out by the sun, so I don’t have to worry about it. In the winter it appears more regularly than snow on a mountain top.
Here’s the thing, today is the day that I really saw it. You know, REALLY saw it. I knew it would reappear this winter, but normally I don’t really look at it, I just wax the damn thing off, as soon as I catch wind that it wants to make it’s annual appearance.
Today, I really looked at it. It has the audacity to be uneven. It is definitely much heavier on the left side, than the right. It’s also darker on the left than the right. Of all the gray hair that I have on my head, why does this hair refuse to go gray? I’d much prefer a gray mustache than a dark one. Much easier to ignore.
See, I was never supposed to have to deal with any of this stuff. I was supposed to have inherited only the good traits from my parents, leaving them to keep their bad ones. But, nooooo, I get the bad ones too.
I look like my Dad. This was especially so when I was younger. Every body said so.
One time, when I was about 35, I had some land line telephone issues. I was still using my married name at the time. This telephone repair man came to my house and is working on my line and turns to me and said, “How’s your Dad?” Huh? So, I say, “How do you know my Dad?” He said, “ I worked with him, before he retired, and you look just like him.” Holy cow, a perfect stranger, knew who my parent was, just by my looks! That’s some strong genetics.
The benefit of taking after my Dad, is that he is tall and slender and has brown hair. He is 76 years old and doesn’t have a gray hair on his head. He does have gray hair in his beard, though.
When I was much younger, I thought I was home free in the gray hair department, because I never intended to grow a beard. Funny those genes of mine. I have a head of gray hair that started when I was 18, and now that I DO have facial hair, it doesn’t have the grace to turn gray, like his. We’re not going to discuss the fact that I’m no longer tall and slender like him, either.
Here’s a little secret. If I can see my mustache when I look into the mirror, other people can see it, too. Ugh! I try to pretend this isn’t true, but when someone is looking at my upper lip instead of my eyes, or even my breasts, I know my secret’s out.
I grew up in the 70’s. The era of “Anything you can do, I can do better.” The era of NOW, the era of Billie Jean King whipping Bobby Riggs on the tennis court. The era of equal rights for all, especially women. Yet, the right to have a mustache or not, has not carried over successfully to women in our society. No, only men can wear mustaches.
So, in the ways of the great Greek warriors of my heritage, I am preparing for battle. As a female I only have a few options to get rid of this nemesis. None of them cheap and none of them easy. There is bleaching, but I have sensitive skin. There is electrolysis, but I have a thin wallet. My only choice left, waxing.
There is no finer torture than waxing one’s face, especially the tender upper lip. Oh, if men only knew what we go through to remain, not beautiful, but just acceptable, they would be honoring us like the goddesses of Greek mythology. That might make the torture more bearable. But alas, I must fight on, alone, me against my unwanted facial hair, and I will win! If only I can find where I hid my box of wax strips.
Tiny Change 18: Keep unwanted facial hair at bay.
Hey, I never said that all 365 changes had to be serious.