Written by Molly
Ok, picture this: you’re a very confident 26 years old. You feel good in your body, you’ve figured out how to do your makeup really well, after MANY bad hairstyles, you have found the perfect one, and you’re feelin’ like you have GOT this thing called mid-twenties down. You are rockin’ it, friend.
One day, you’re just minding your own business cruising down the road driving to work. It’s a perfect 75 degrees, the windows are down (the wind blowing in your perfect, beach waved locks), Dave Matthews is singing to you, and you’re pretty sure life doesn’t get much more perfect than this. You check out your cute little self in the rearview mirror and something catches your eye. SURELY you are mistaken about what you just saw, so you pull down the visor and check that mirror as well. Oh, HECK. You frantically wipe off the mirror because there HAS to be something wrong with that mirror, too.
You reach your hand up to your chin and feel around a little bit. You grasp something between your fingers, and…
All of a sudden, you’re trapped in a time warp catapulting back in time. Zrrrrrrrrp! You’re four years old sitting in the bathtub while your grandmother inspects her face in the 124,234x magnified mirror on her bathroom vanity. She carefully feels around her chin, tweezers at the ready. “Oh—com’ere ya little…” she says, as she yanks out a tiny black hair. But…why didn’t she just use the regular mirror like a normal person? Oh, maybe it’s so she COULD SEE THE CHIN HAIRS POKING OUT OF HER FACE, AND YOU SOMEHOW MISSED THE ONE THAT HAS OBVIOUSLY BEEN GROWING FOR FOUR YEARS JUDGING BY THE LENGTH OF THAT THING. *Buy that ever-lovin’ magnifying mirror the second you get home, Molly* you think to yourself.
Everything snaps back into focus and all you can do is try your hardest to pull that hateful thing OUT OF YOUR FACE. But wait, you can’t grasp it. It slips right through your fingers in all of its one inch of glory every.single.time. WHY don’t you keep tweezers in your car for such a time as this?!
Ok, maybe you’re a guy and your face is covered in hair and you’re wondering what the big deal is (but I don’t think ANY guy has gotten this far in this post, tbh), or maybe you’re blessed with the skin of a Disney Princess and you’d never become an old troll who grows chin hairs. But here’s the thing: why didn’t my mom ever tell me that chin hairs are a thing for women younger than 85? Like, I would have been a little suspicious about that kind of information, but at least I wouldn’t have nearly wrecked my car and died at the ripe age of 26 trying to get this blasted thing out of my face before I walk into work.
Now, I am NOT a medical doctor, but I’ve done a little research on this whole *situation.* It would seem that a sudden growth of many, many chin hairs in women can be indicative of a hormonal imbalance (you should see your doctor if you’re concerned), but the stray chin hair that magically reappears every two weeks like clockwork isn’t much to worry about (even if you’re in your mid-twenties). Nah, that’s just your body doin’ annoying sh*t.
But, this does bring me to another point: why don’t we do a better job of teaching the little ones watching us about the less savory parts of life? Not with the goal of making them fearful of growing older, but just giving them an idea of what to expect. Why didn’t anyone tell me about the way I’d develop more and more hair in weird places? Why do we protect our little ones (boys and girls alike) from seeing what adults (women, in particular) look like and encounter on a daily basis?
When do we get to the point where we are comfortable enough in our own skin to just talk about normal things like they are rather than hiding them? I’m cool with telling you about my chin hair that I’ll clearly be plucking when I’m 110 years old if you are cool with telling your little ones that they’re still just as beautiful with a rouge chin hair as they are without.
Chin hair pluckers, unite!