Biggirl, I feel your pain. But I have it worse. I have a mole right above my jawline that <gasp> grows hair. It is the MOST DISGUSTING THING EVER. I always feel like one of those stereotypical green-skinned witches in the Halloween cartoons. There are 3 or 4 hairs in that sucker. When I was young, it was a tiny, dark freckle. Now it’s starting to look like that thing on Enrique Iglesias’s face. :eek:
Thank Og it’s being removed in March, exactly one week after my birthday. I had to get a plastic surgeon to do it, because my doctor said there’s potential for my entire face to swell up when it’s removed. Eew!
I have a chin hair too - yes, the mutant kind that always seems to get to be like 6 inches long before you notice it the first time. I thought I was a complete freak until I found out all the women in my family seem to get it around college age. In the exact same spot. Urgh.
Use tweezers. They go away a lot longer and you’ll be treated to smooth chinness for 99% of the time. The only bad time is when it’s too short to pluck, but you’ve become obsessive about it and it drives you…crazy… and you have to resist the horrible urges to gouge at your skin to get at it. (This lasts about a day.)
This thread is making me feel so very much better about my own little goatee and moustachios. Thanks, Dopers!
One other thing, I’m thirty-eight years old and I still get zits. It is so tiresome to have grey hairs and wrinkles and ZITS. Oh, and I just got my period. I’ve been getting my period every month for over a quarter of a century now, and I’m just damn sick of it. Ouch!
Gotta go take another Advil. Thanks for listening.
OMG…the thought of Kylie Mole sitting on anyone’s face is just horrid.
Gee, thanks Desmostylus. I had long forgotten Kylie, and now you have revived a memory that should have remained in the dark recesses of my consciousness. Thanks heaps. :rolleyes:
Give yourself a few years. The following scenario will be familiar:
You’re in traffic, absent-mindenedly stroking your chin. Suddenly, you realize you feel a little bristle sticking out. One of the little bastards is growing back! You carefully explore the exact geography of the chin with your fingers, trying to memorize by feel exactly where it is. Then you put both hands on the wheel and smile in grim determination. A stoplight awaits.
You ease to a stop in your lane. You look left. You look right. You see that the windows of your car are not lined up with anyone else’s so you have a modicum of privacy. Then you reach over to the ashtray and fish out the little secret weapon you have stashed there: a pair of scissor-grip tweezers. Your fingers curl around the cold steel as your heart starts to beat faster. You bring the tweezers up your face, cupping your hand around them somewhat in case some sharp-eyed person in the oncoming lanes on the other side of the intersection is watching.
You don’t need a mirror, because your fingers have located the spot with braille-like precision when you were driving down the road. You just tighten up that chin-skin with a pinch of the lips, and go in for the kill.
I tweeze my chin constantly to get those wiry buggers that the wax will not lift off. I’ve waxed and re-waxed to the point I’ve pulled the top layer of skin off, but that group of bristly hair is still there.
A couple months ago, there was a NIB depilatory lazer on eBay that went for $40.00. I should’ve bought it, but the thing had so many dials and buttons that it scared me. Rightly so, I suspect.
