The Whisker!

A couple days ago I noticed a dark speck above my lip. Thinking it was a blackhead I tried to squeeze it out. But the more I squeezed, the more I realized that this was no mere blackhead. It was a thick, black hair - not the dark facial hair that you have waxed or bleached. In other words, it was a whisker. UGH! My friend warned me these were coming, but I didn't believe her.

What in the world of evolution would cause a woman's body to start forming whiskers? Even at the ripe old age of 39, doesn't God want us to be attractive anymore? Or is it a joke? By this age, are we supposed to laugh at these peculiarities (like whiskers) since, by now, we should feel comfortable with our looks?

I just thought of something. It's Karma.

Doug turns forty this week. Since I'm only in my late thirties (ahem), it's been kind of fun to play the age card with him. We've been getting a kick out of cutting a few hairs from his ears and nose. (Wouldn't it be interesting to see how long they can grow?)But now I must pay for the joy I took in these events. God's telling me, "You're right around corner, Honey."

Needless to say, I plucked that sucker from my upper lip. It was very thick and fairly long under the surface. I compared the thickness to some stubble on Doug's face. It even occurred to me perhaps I should save the little devil and compare it to anything else that might grow on my face. But I didn't. I showed it to Doug (he wasn't nearly as interested). I washed it down the sink.

Then I chuckled.