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What The Pluck!

Cosmetically Disturbing

woman tweezing chin

It’s inevitable..we change both mentally and physically. Especially physically. Some folks will go to great lengths to hide or remove their unwanted signs of aging. For others like me, we just do the best we can.

I am not sure when it happened..but I suddenly became aware of the fact that I was growing random facial hair in a small chin cluster. In fact..it was probably about the same time that my son was sprouting his first facial hair. Of course, I certainly didn’t want to call attention to this fact or that my hair growth might have been more impressive than his. Interesting to know how proud he was of his hair vs how horrified I found mine.

The more I speak with women in my age group, the more I have  realized that I am not the only one in the unwanted facial hair group. Approximately, 20 million American women remove facial hair at least once a week. Likely for most of us, it is hormone related and naturally occurring, rather than medical in nature..but disturbing non-the-less.

As I read about facial hair, my source noted that before puberty, facial hair is a fine, thin type known as “vellus.” With the onset of puberty, hormones transform some hair to a course pigmented variety called, “terminal.” I kid you not, not only do we get unwanted hair..it’s terminal.

Equally Unflattering

hot wax

What I find equally unflattering is the process of trying to remove these unwanted visitors. There are various methods that we try in hopes of causing a stunted growth process that will stop their growth forever..but they continue to grow in defeat of our efforts.

There is the ” Hot Wax” method..the nice warm, soothing feel of warm wax on your face..until it’s ripped off with a harsh jolt of pain. Yes, this removes the hair temporarily and leaves one with a bright, red patch of smooth skin that stands out like a stop light. But no worries, my hairdresser dabs a bit of Witch Hazel on the area of attack & slightly pushes the cotton ball with pressure, to mask the intense stinging. It’s up to me to dab the tears out of my eyes. It’s hard to believe that women will put themselves through this process repeatedly with limited relief and no hair growth end in sight. Oh, be sure to schedule this type of removal when you don’t have an event to attend for a couple of days.



Of course there is the Tweezer method. I find it interesting that one brand of this small torture device is called: “Tweezer Man”. I’m just sayin. Every woman has a pair of tweezers or four. We have our flat tips, our angle tips and our pointed tip tweezers. We surely have our trusty multiple magnification mirror and  our pick of pastel tweezers and are ready for action. I can think of few things less flattering than a woman with her mirror, tweezers, and pursed lips as she plucks with a vengeance, oblivious to the world (or people) around her. My thoughts are that this approach should be reserved for a private setting with no visitors (with the exception of a female slumber party using wine as the anesthetic)…though some women pluck in public with wild abandon and intention.

I suppose if your budget allows for it, and you are so inclined, you can go pay a cosmetic doctor or technician to remove your unwanted hair by laser. Physically, this approach is probably less painful than the primitive torture methods described above, but likely with a pricey cost for the privilege.

What About Bleaching?

Biggest accomplishment - Copy

I know some women who prefer the “bleaching” method. If you can’t stop em’ from growing, just bleach them so they blend in. Hmm. Just reading the instructions on the these bleach boxes is intimidating to me. And based on my past experiences with hair dye, I think that this method would be better left to the professionals who have been trained on how to use dye. Anyway..there’s just something about my husband running his hand through my furry face that doesn’t seem right..even if they are lightly colored.

Our Plucking Plight

True friends

So there it is..the perpetual plucking plight of the middle-aged woman and beyond. The positive thing about growing older after middle age..is that at some point, you don’t care. You don’t care if these unwanted hairs grow or live in harmony with your liver spots, dry skin and wrinkles, or not. Actually, I think that there is probably a comfortable freedom in not worrying about these pesky hairs.

Here’s to older age and not caring about the physical expressions of ourselves. But until then… pluck on Princess!



So I’ve Got A Few Hang-ups..

Could It Be Too Many Clothes..Pfft

A Simple Device







Here it is..my first Pet Peeves blog post. We all have our own unique pet peeves.  To be clear, my random pet peeves don’t spend a lot of time occupying my time and attention. Yet, when they happen, they do annoy me..and garner the occasional snarling words of choice.

Clothes Hangers..The Bane Of My Existence

Messy hangers

Really? What does the bane of my existence even mean? I know that my mom said it a lot when I grew up. I figured out that whatever it meant, must be supremely negative from the exaggerated way that it left her lips. So I recently looked it up. According to one source, the word bane comes from the middle and old english bana-meaning destroyer or murderer. Geez, these clinking occupiers do annoy me..but I am not driven to murder. I could, however, be accused of consistent abuse from my rough woman-handling of my deliberate non-conformist hangers.  So what is it anyway that makes me so crazy about clothes hangers? It’s the predictable way (mostly at our house) that they get tangled up with each other. All I want to do is hang up a shirt or coat and I am suddenly sucked into the battle of a clothes hanger war. And it’s not just one or two. It’s as if they have sent out an alert to all of their kin folk to join the tug-o-war. Apparel is falling, hangers are being pulled in every direction, bad words are slipping from my mouth, and yes…the irritation is starting to come to a fast boil.


Perhaps my clothes hangers are rebelling at the location and manner in which they are forced to live. I will admit to providing excessively cramped quarters and a limited space for them to breathe. But the priority is obviously for these hangers to quietly do their jobs in their well-established  and designated ” small, current and big ” sized clothes sections. I suppose they could have issues of belongingness. You see, I have always prided myself on providing an inclusive closet with a variety of hanger-types. Clothes hangers don’t all need to look the same, and I think everyone should have a variety of colored hangers that can freely mix in different groups and not have to stay with their look-alike neighbors. Not only that, there should be no barriers to my hangers coming out of the closet or feeling any less-abled than their closet-mates. I believe in using coat hangers even if they have sustained a wire injury, been used for a car lock or two,  or become mis-shapened through the years.

bent coat hanger


 The Chosen Ones..

I’m not gonna lie…occasionally I come across someone’s impeccable closet which houses beautiful and orderly pastel hangers and their upscale satin cousins. They live in perfect spacing and could be featured in an HGTV closet feature. It’s not clear whether these gourmet closets were blessed with extra square footage or it has something more to do with their owner’s organizational skill sets.

At the end of the day and in the big scheme of life things that matter, my silly clothes hanger chaos is a problem of small magnitude.  I guess it can best be summed up in one sentence: “Oh what a tangled mess I weave, when only trying to hang a sleeve”.

If this is my biggest problem…well, you get it.