by LOLA TUCKER
edited by TONY FYLER
So I woke up in a wonderful mood this morning. Bounced out of bed, despite a rather restless night. Cleaned up the house, fed all the critters and hopped in the shower. After washing my hair and exfoliating enough to take off several layers of skin, wrinkles and dry patches, I headed to the mirror for my daily survey of the personal “real estate.”
As I turned on my overhead light, which is brighter than a solar eclipse, I leaned over to see if any new lines had appeared while I was off in La La Land. Nope, not a one. We’re off to a good start. I leaned in closer…
What the hell is that???
Oh my God, it’s a freaking NOSE HAIR!
I started to hyperventilate.
Before you accuse me of overreacting, please understand that I am a fair-skinned redhead. Body hair is not something I have had to contend with, unlike my Greek, Italian and African-American female counterparts. I don’t grow mole hair or wild, witchy chin hair, and I don’t have five o’clock shadow on my upper lip that could be mistaken for a pornstache. I don’t have to wax my eyebrows. Hell, even shaving my legs and bikini line is a big “so what.” But today… Today… Body hair has taken on an entirely different meaning, and not in a good way.
Now, I know nose hairs have been in existence since the beginning of time, along with ear sprouts. And while my dad didn’t live long enough to sport such accessories, I have seen a veritable smorgasbord of older men and occasionally women who have. There is a reason why Wahl is in business. For years, I’ve laughed incessantly while walking past the Lame Dad Gift displays in department stores. Invariably, there it was, next to the automatic change counters and soap on a rope… THE WAHL NOSE HAIR TRIMMER. Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I wondered, Why don’t I own one of those? My life is over.
But that was where my neurosis kicked in. Unless that single nose hair had been curled up inside my nose waiting for just the right moment to make its debut, there is no way it was there the day before! I mean, in the name of all that it is holy, it was so long that, if it had two friends, I could have braided all three together and added some beading at the end! It was longer than any of the hair in my nether regions, for chrissakes.
How could this have happened overnight? Did my husband put Miracle Gro in my saline sinus spray bottle as a practical joke?
I quickly grabbed my tiny scissors and plotted this menacing hair’s demise. I needed a magnifying glass because, of course, along with everything else, my eyesight has gone to hell. But there was no way I could hold the magnifying glass AND the scissors with any sort of grace and skill. So I put on my reading glasses and leaned into the mirror as close as I could. OMG, there was a whole ARMY of those little f&#ckers in there. Overnight, they had Occupied My Nose!
I must warn you, if you’ve never stuck a pair of scissors up your nose and tried to cut, it’s no easy feat, even with the smallest scissors. I carefully committed to my first snip and lopped off the most obtrusive offender. The hair fell helplessly onto my dresser. I swear I heard it scream. Then I massacred all his little buddies from each nostril. More light. I need more light! I surveyed the battlefield. It was over. I had won. Not a hair in sight. I was victorious. But for how long?
If any of you ladies out there would like to share your nose hair story, so I don’t feel like the only female under the age of 75 who’s done battle with them, please feel free. And, for those of you wondering what to get me for Christmas, there’s a vast selection of Wahl trimmer products in the Lame Dad Gift section of your nearest department store.