I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR (especially during a wax job!)

I am coming back as a man in my next life.  Yup, you heard it here first.  I am so over being a woman.  Being a woman has just become way too much maintenance for me!

You know, last night I was sitting there covering up my grey roots, yet again, when I got to thinking about how super easy men have it.  As a kid, I use to always feel sorry for my Dad and his daily shave of his face and neck, but now that I am in my early 40's, I can see that he has absolutely nothing on my daily routine.

Oh its starts off innocent enough. First you start shaving your arm pits in your preteen stage and then you might as well start shaving your calves, and what’s that you say, all your friends are doing their thighs too?  Well I guess I better start mowing the lawn up there as well, and before you know it, there isn’t a speck of hair on your entire body, well of course, with the exception of your head and a nameless area (after all this is a family friendly blog) and even that nameless area is debatable with some women.

But you think that this would be it, wouldn’t you?  Oh no, then we have the joys of entering in our 40's and you get up that one morning and you pull out your magnifying mirror (because let’s face it, you are starting to loose your sight and can no longer see the flaws without 200x magnification) and OH MY GAWD, horror strikes!  “What’s that at the corner of my mouth?”  Oh my lord, is that the beginning of a Foo Man Chu moustache.  And, if that isn’t the icing on the proverbial cake, upon closer inspection, I start to wonder if I am now sporting a full goatee.  Eeeek!

My esthetician thinks I am crazy.  She says there is nary a hair on my face. I think she is just being polite. Could also be the fact that she is in her 40's too and may well be as blind as a bat.  But personally, I think that she is worried that if she tells me the truth, I will go screaming off into the night and reside with the rest of the apes, and she’s probably right, you know!  But I’m no fool. I can see it in her eyes and I know what she is really thinking!  I know secretly she wants to grab my face and say to me “Look Bush Baby, stick your entire face in that vat of wax because you are beginning to look like the hairy woman from Borneo!” 

And if this isn’t the worst possible news, I now spend my free time with my face glued to the mirror looking for strays that have sprung up somewhere new in the middle of the night.  I swear that while I am sleeping there is a Hairy Fairy that comes and spreads “instant growth” manure on my face!  I’d certainly like to catch that little bugger and clip her wings! 

And then the other day, another woman said to me “wait till you start growing nostril hair.”  WHAT?  Are you kidding me?  I certainly thought that was only reserved for men, but in any event, I spent the next two hours inspecting my nostrils for any indication that I might have had a reforestation going on!  Ugh I say!  UGH!

I am at a loss on how to beat the fact that I am starting to revert back to one of my ancient ancestors.  I have thought of buying bulk containers of Nair Hair Remover and filling up my bathtub and just dipping myself in. Or, I could just give up and starting swinging from the trees like the rest of the primates.  In the meantime, I am packing up my bags... I have just been sent my invitation to join the Gorgades, a Tribe of Hairy Libyan women.  Don’t laugh, I hear your invitation is in the mail too!

Until Next Time.

Smooches