The Phantom Hair Nemesis | Confessions of a Stay-At-Home Mom

April 9, 2013

The Phantom Hair Nemesis

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?

The Hair.

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 brushed.

And 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?

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