Stick Me in a Pointy Hat and Call me Witchy Poo

For those of you who have hung around here for a while, you know I’ve had my share of aging issues. It’s not necessarily that I’m bothered by getting older – in fact I am more comfortable in my skin in this stage of my life than I’ve ever been. But – a girl has got to draw the line somewhere and for me, it is embracing chin hair.

I was washing dishes yesterday with the brilliant, later-afternoon sun shining on my face through the kitchen window. I noticed my husband looking at me more intently than usual and just for a moment I thought, “Wow, I love that guy.” He stepped closer to me, all serious-like, and said, “Be. Still.” Of course I listened – I thought I must certainly be in some imminent danger and that my stud of a hubby was going to rescue me. I closed my eyes and cringed as Luke pulled something off my face that felt like it was rooted all the way back in my spine. Holy Cow, I’m still screeching! And leaving no question in my mind that he does indeed love me for uglier or prettier, he showed me what he’d saved me from – an disgusting, inch long, chin hair.

I’m still not over it.

Where does a girl go from here? I mean really, what is next? I may at some point succumb to elastic waist pants or sensible shoes, but I will nevah, nevah accept a hairy chin no matter if I have to shave alongside my husband from this day forth.

So, is anything weird happening to you girls or am I the only one who won’t need a costume for Halloween the Harvest Festival? Any signs of aging you just weren’t prepared for?

Feel free to lament here as we minister one unto another.