Ya’ll, I found something. It’s not pretty. It’s extremely traumatic. It’s worse than an ingrown toenail. Worse than finding a pimple in a bizarre place. Worse than a bad hair day or life.
I was putting on makeup the other day, when I happened to do that tilt-face-side-to-side thing. (I have no idea why I was doing this, I’ve seen other girls do it and figure it’s part of the makeup process.) And there it was, er- they were…erm, just how do you refer to multiple hairs growing in a group-like formation on your cheek?
Chops. Sideburns. Facial hair.
What to do? I have enough trouble figuring out what to do with peekaboo nostril hair (peekaboo, you know, it sort of sticks out sneakily, saying “Haha! I’m here! Do something with me or you’re gross!”) and normal girly stuff. But facial hair?
I had this eerie image of me and Lance, side by side at the bathroom sink, sharing shaving cream and exchanging witty banter while shaving our faces. Ick. *shudder* Blech.
Please, please, someone out there tell me that disgusting facial hair is a sign of beauty in Uganda or somewhere exotic.