I am haunted by a nemesis.
I'm not sure where she came from; one day she was just there. And let me tell you, she is sassy thing. I never know when she's going to pop up, which gives her the element of surprise in a battle. And battle we must, because while one lives, the other....flounders.
Who is this nemesis?
Let me introduce you:
|The Hair makes me scowl.|
|Let's get a little closer. Can you see it yet?|
|A little closer still. There she is, taking shape.|
|For better viewing purposes, I have circled the afflicted area.|
|Hair enhanced for research purposes|
The Hair resides on my right cheek. It is a rogue warrior that doesn't even bother trying to blend in to it's surroundings. Unlike the fine barely-there hair that covers most of our skin (with the exception of the moustache that periodically attacks my upper lip, which is a story for another day), The Hair is darker and longer. It is often mistaken for an eye lash. It's like a hair that was invited to the Eyebrow Party but somewhere got lost along the way and decided to just party somewhere else.
Dang partying hairs.
Like I said earlier, she wasn't always there. One day she just was. Very poetic, don't you think? One day I was doing my make up in the mirror, and I saw The Hair. Mistaking it for an eyelash, I tried to brush it away. I brushed.
And she did not budge.
And then I was horrified that 1) my face could create such monstrosities without my knowledge and 2) I had no idea how long I'd been walking around with this fishing line hanging off my cheek. Were people talking?!
I immediately tweezed the heck out of it, assuming that was the end of her.
Oh friends. It was only the beginning.
A few months later, in a similar moment, I was about to add blush to my cheeks and there she was. Taunting me from my right cheek (which, in a mirror, actually looks like my left cheek. But I disgress). The anger rose in me and we battled. I won. This time.
Fast forward. I'm having a conversation with my friend and I noticed her eyes drift toward my cheek.
"Oh! You have an eyelash on your cheek. Here let me get it for you. Make a wish!" she cheerfully informed me.
I couldn't get the "NOOOOOOO!" out fast enough. Her hand was already to my cheek, where she brushed. And brushed. And brushed.
But that hair did not fall away.
I saw the moment her realization settled in that it was, in fact, an intact hair. That her futile efforts were useless without weaponry of tweezers, scissors or laser hair removal.
I wish I could have verbalized that I was embarrassed enough for the both of us.
So we continue to battle, me and The Hair. She uses her element of surprise to catch me off guard. And I keep my tweezers sharp for the sweet moments of removal. It may be a war that lasts the rest of my life.
But I will go down fighting.
Do you have a Rogue Hair Nemesis? How do you fight the battles?