Invisible Stealth Whiskers - A Hirsute Tale of Triumph

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

Yesterday started as many other days.

I’m sitting at my desk mid-morning when I hear the call of nature. (ok I didn’t hear it so much as feel it, you know what I mean) Two cups of coffee and 16 oz of water (must stay hydrated) and I’m heading with no small amount of haste to the ladies room. I release the excess liquid that has built up inside my body and stop by the sink area to wash up before leaving. As I’m soaping up I glance up at my reflection in the mirror. This is important as I am a bit of a messy eater and it’s not unusual for me to find bits of food from breakfast still stuck to my face somewhere. How is it I don’t feel these things? Is my face devoid of nerve endings? No, it is not, not at all as I shall soon find out.

Where were we? Oh, yes, I’m glancing up in the mirror while washing up and what do I spy? Not bits of oatmeal stuck to my chin, no, something even worse, something almost too horrible to comprehend. A whisker! And not a small whisker, no sirree, this sucker was at least ¼” long and, to add insult to injury, it was white. Not blonde, white, as in devoid of color, as in “the old grey mare ain’t what she used to be”. I’m horrified. I’m aghast.

I finish washing and dry my hands, stepping back from the mirror a couple of feet and hoping that it isn’t all that visible from a distance. No such luck. It is apparently luminescent. I know not what light source shines within but this thing is like a beacon. I feel like I could guide ships in to the shore. Move over Rudolph, Santa’s got a new helper.

Fine, I grab the offending hair between thumb and forefinger applying as much fingernail as I can hoping to form a human tweezer and pluck it out as it does offend me. No, this does not work. It hurts, yes, pulling hurts but no, my little beacon of womanhood is still shining like the bright morning sun.

The day progresses and I let the thought of the glowing whisker fall to the back of my mind. I ignore my co-workers who are donning sunglasses in my presence and console myself that they’re trying to be cool, not shield their eyes from the super nova on my chinny chin chin. I try not to think about it too much and thank various icons and deities that I don’t have any meetings today and I’m mostly just sitting in my cubicle in the far back corner of the office (is this why they put me here, because I’m causing a glare?)

On my commute home I debate stopping at the grocery store for ingredients for dinner. This is when the knowledge of the whisker comes back to the forefront of my brain. I’ll be in public, people will see, children will be scarred for life (won’t someone think of the children?). I decide to give it another look. At a traffic light I plant my feet firmly in the floor of my van, lift my butt a couple of inches off the seat and crane my head slightly to the right so I can look at myself in the mirror without adjusting it.

HOLY SHIT!

There it is, in all its glory but it is small and meek compared to the three (yes, I counted three) longer and much darker hairs growing just to the left of the Luminous Wonder Whisker. I guess the little one had to glow to make up in visibility what it lacked in size compared to its neighbors. HOLY SHIT! I’m now freaking out and grab my purse from which I extract my powder compact with the little mirror. I’m still at the traffic light. I focus the mirror on my chin and take a long hard look.

Nothing. I can see nothing in the mirror. I move my face around to catch the light. Adjust my glasses so that I’m looking through the strongest part of the progressive bi-focal. Nothing. I can only see the LWW, the long, sinister, dark whiskers to the left have disappeared.

Again I plant my feet firmly on the floor, lift my butt a couple of inches off the seat and crane my head slightly to the right so I can look at myself in the mirror. There they are. HOLY SHIT! The LWW is accompanied by the Invisible Stealth Whiskers.

Question is, when do they decloak? Can other people see them? I am horrified and cancel my plans for the grocery store and head directly home to tweeze.

And tweeze I do but I can’t see. The ISW are illusive. I do the best I can by feel but in my heart I know they’re there, taunting me, waiting for me. I know now what must be done. I know that there is only one answer.

2

Back in the late 80’s the Marquis de Sade Manufacturing Company invented something called the Epilady. This marvelous device plucked your hairs out by the root rendering you smooth and hairless for weeks. It was intended mostly for use on the legs and it seemed too good to be true which it was. I soon found out that the only way I could use the thing was if I had several stiff drinks before hand. Plucking leg hairs or any other hairs out by the root hurts every bit as much as you think it would. To add insult to injury it didn’t get all the hairs and took approximately 43 times longer than regular shaving. It was a pain, literally, and it was inefficient.

But I kept mine. Barely used in a drawer by my bed. I’d get it out from time to time and consider throwing it away or giving it to charity (why should the privileged few have all the pain?) but never did. And there it has rested, waiting. Waiting for the opportunity to show its usefulness. That time has come.

This day, I removed it from its leatherette pouch, plugged in the charger and plugged it in to the wall outlet in my daughter’s room. She’s away at camp and so great was my shame that I couldn’t let Mr. Jones know what I was planning to do. I knew that it would have to charge for a while so my plan was to leave it plugged in overnight and use it in the morning.

This morning I awoke with some trepidation. I had my coffee and put off my shower as long as I could. After I’d showered and dressed it knew it was time. I entered the bed chamber of my daughter where the Epilady was waiting for me, red light glowing angrily. I felt strangly calm as I approached the beast. I removed it from the charger and took it into the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror I moved the switch to the highest setting and began to Epilate (isn’t that a nice word, epilate) my chin.

Ow! Ouch! Oh! Ooh! Shit! Ow! Yikes! Whoa! Fuck that hurts!

But I keep going until I can feel that there are no longer any hairs to pluck out. I touch my chin and it feels as smooth as a baby’s bottom. I am happy. The LWW has been extinguished and the ISWs have been shot down.

I finish my morning beautification ritual and head out for work. I enter my car and once again I plant my feet firmly on the floor, lift my butt a couple of inches off the seat and crane my head slightly to the right so I can look at myself in the mirror………

My chin is smooth. All of the various whiskers are gone.

But I know they’ll be back. Now I’m just wondering where I can leave the Epilady plugged in for next time.

3

For future reference, if you don’t have tweezers about your person and your fingernails don’t seem to be doing the trick, a pair of coins can sometimes be pressed into service as a makeshift gripping device.

4

Thank you dear Mangetout I knew there was a reason I was saving all of those pennies in a cup on my desk. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.

5

Microtweeze! A few seconds in the microwave and it’s ready to use. I use it for pit hair.

6

Welcome to the club of old-ladies-to-be. I’m going out to get an an epilady or micro thing. I am tired of craning my nack in the bathroom mirror, tryng to get my trifocals adjusted so I can focus on the little things. I guess it’s all downhill from here…

7

Relatedly, I still remember the day I looked in the bathroom mirror at work and said, WTF is that discoloration on my upper lip? I scrubbed and scrubbed but it didn’t come off. After surfing WebMD I assumed it was very mild melasma and tried lightening stuff for six weeks to no avail. Now I just live with it as a sign of being old :frowning: and count on my friends to point out the abnormally long hairs on my neck. :eek:

8

I’ve taken to keeping a pair of tweezers in the car. Sunlight and the make-up mirror on the sun visor reveal every one of those little bastards, and long redlights allow time to yank out two or three at least. This keeps me from having to wax more than every other month or two.

9

I’ve got a white one on my chin that always comes back, but I never catch it growing - it springs fullly formed like Athena or something. Last time I couldn’t find my tweezers so I ripped it out with a pair of pliers. Stung like a bitch.

I’m only 26.