Thursday, April 25, 2013

We women have our quirks

This has absolutely nothing to do with men.  Well, I suppose it could by their connection to their spouses or girlfriends.  I know from a personal stand point that my husband, Eric who's currently reading this blog, will be in what I consider a very unattractive state quivering and snorting with laughter in acquiescence.  It's a good thing he's not telecommuting today as I'd whack him soundly upside the head.

We women have our quirks and one in particular is our need to remove unwanted facial hair or what I personally refer to as "hag hair".  These pesky little bastards are stiff, solid whiskers which appear in unwanted and obnoxious locations such as the corners of our mouths, in strange formations under our chins, and/or in moles around our necklines.

I have, in several past blogs discussed these awful hair follicles.  In fact, I believe I've dedicated entire posts to them.  I won't be doing this today; however, my writing will absorb a main portion of this topic. You see, in order for us to remove these nasty whiskers, women must have the proper tool to do so.  A good set of tweezers is irreplaceable.  Once we've found one which can pluck the offender quickly and efficiently, we consider these tweezers the mother pluckers of all our supplies.  We cherish them.  Let me repeat this...they are the golden tweezers.

My eldest son is a hoarder.  Impulsively and without considering the implications, if he sees something laying about, he'll pick it up and claim it as his own.  The other day I found the mother lode of all hag hairs.  It was extremely long and thick.  I couldn't concentrate on anything else until it was removed.  OH HELL NO!  My mother pluckers were missing.  My golden tweezers were not where they belonged!

I begged. I cried.  I attempted a plea deal.  All to no avail.  My son didn't want to get caught in an act of treachery.  I had to use my back-up tweezers.  They didn't do the job like my favorites.  I had to wear my glasses because God knows I'm too far sighted to see the little bugger up close.  I picked and pulled my skin until it bled because of course now that I'm in my..um..er - late..um - oh Hell...40's the hair was grey and harder to see..BUT I KNEW IT WAS THERE!

I sense that my male readers are laughing.  Don't be so quick to think I'm a solo insane female.  This is a broad based phenomenon my gentlemen friends.  I told one of my female compatriots the story and she called my kiddo a "son-of-a-bitch".  Of course, that would make me the bitch, but this only goes to show you my dear xy chromosome friends and blog readers, that we women take a good pair of tweezers very seriously.  She even coached me that lighting in parked cars makes removal of said "hag hairs" much easier which - of course - I've known for ages (any self-respecting "hag hair" puller would).

So here it is - I've placed my most recent complaint on the table.  If I'm lucky, I'll have just enough time to conduct a thorough crime scene investigation in my son's bedroom before he gets home from school.  Justice shall prevail.  My mother pluckers will be found.