My first whisker
The other day, I found a WHISKER growing on my FACE. A real whisker, people. It was thick and dark black, like the whiskers you find within a burly man’s vigorous mustache. I am not a big hairy dude, so the discovery of a whisker on my upper lip was mystifying. However, I treated this discovery with stoic reflection…
Okay, maybe I wasn’t completely calm when I found that nasty whisker. Maybe I panicked and cried and hid in the house for a week. After mourning my lost estrogen, I dried my tears and did some research. Let’s face it, misery loves company and I was going to find other women who wore their whiskers with pride. Behold, my results:
The sea is full of magical ladies who don’t let a few whiskers get in their way. I vow to rip a page out of their how-to-rock-a-beard manual. If I try hard enough, I can sprout a few whiskers on my chin. Honestly, I think my husband won’t be able to keep his hands off me.
If I can’t grow a beard, perhaps I can grow my whisker long enough to mimic this flowing mustache, which looks quite feminine in the water. Kind of like a long, flowing skirt for my upper lip. I think my husband will find this new look wildly erotic. I’d better buy a new scrapbook for all of the poems he’s going to write in honor of my beauty.
But wait. I found someone who looks just like me when I realize there’s no more ice cream in the freezer:
This gal’s five o’clock shadow/stubble is tough yet feminine. The perfect look for running errands. Picture me on the way to the grocery store’s crowded parking lot:
All of the beautiful, non-whiskered ladies clear outta my way when they spot my rockin’ whisker stubble, because they don’t have the courage to embrace whiskers or anything else that’s mildly terrifying.
And after all of those folks zip out of the way, I’ll pull into a premium spot right next to the store:
I might sound smug about my identity, but there’s a good chance you’ve got reason to be smug too. Go buy a magnifying mirror, bring it outside on a sunny day, and look at your reflection. Hey, what’s that on your chin? Oh, it’s just a crumb.
Never mind. And let’s pretend I never wrote this, okay?
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This post brought to you by hormones
and the Society of People Who Avoid Good Mirrors.
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