Sunday, May 6, 2012

By The Hairs Of My Chin-y Chin Chin

Reality hit me today.  No more hiding it.  I've tried for several years now to wrap it in a pretty package - some pink, some blue, a little white.  Wrap it in a pretty, colorful package and tuck it away. Far away. Out of sight.

No way was reality gonna grab me.  Ooooooh, no.  Not if I could help it.  I was sure I could squeeze out a few  more years before I had to ... well, before I had to open the pretty package and let it out.

Actually, I didn't "let" it out.  It was more like it roared out.  Didn't give me a chance.  Hit me right in the face.

The face.  The face.  The chin, to be exact.  That's where it all started.

See, it's like this:  a good many "women of a certain age" know about the dreaded chin hairs. (If you are one of "those" women, and are not blessed with chin hairs count your blessings.)  I, however, find myself in the blessed group.  I would rather not be so blessed but, let's just lay it on the table.  It definitely IS what it is.

So ... there I was feeling and seeing the need to remove those not-supposed-to-be-there chin hairs.

There are precise steps to doing this.  First, flip the double-sided mirror to the magnifying side.  Then, twist and turn the mirror back and forth, until I get the light to shine in just the right place on the chin. Remove my glasses so I won't bump into the mirror (I figured that I could see without the glasses 'cause the mirror magnified!). Lean face in to mirror, close enough to spot the renegade hairs - run fingertip over chin to feel the stubby hairs.  Pick up the trusty tweezers, the ones that really grab hold of a tiny hair, not the "useless" ones. Kick the bathroom door firmly closed when footsteps get close, as those are not moments I wanted to share.  THEN let the work begin. I did. I began. With tweezers in my fingers I raised my hand for the first "grab" - when it happened.

It all happened in a few seconds. Didn't take long to change my whole life. But long enough for reality to hit me good and hard.  I could no longer avoid it:  I AM a Senior!  No, not one of the high school or college Seniors about to graduate.  Been there and done that many years ago.  NOW I had to admit that I am a "Senior Citizen", heading towards that ultimate graduation.  I just finally had to spit out the words: "Okay!  I've arrived!  I admit it! Now I know!"

Because ... ? Well, because as my tweezers were raised to my hair-sprinkled chin, I was pushing my face closer to the magnifying mirror.  I was pushing my face closer to the magnifying mirror because my "woman-of-a-certain-age" eyes (without the glasses) were not getting a clear enough picture of my chin and the offending hairs.  As the hand with the tweezers was approaching the face that was approaching the mirror, the woman-of-certain-age's eyes didn't see just HOW close the tweezers were until the hand bumped the chin and the tweezers fell to the floor.

Just pick up the tweezers, right? Well ... I stood up straight and looked down to spot those tweezers only to see my tummy, which is a bit too large to see over.  But, hey, forget the bloated belly and bend down, huh?  Well ... not exactly, as the woman-of-a-certain-age's  knees are no longer performing as well as when she was the high school and college graduate all those years ago.

But I tried. Even at the last moment there I tried keeping reality in its pretty box.  The knees just wouldn't cooperate, particularly the one I injured back in November.

However, the chin still needed those tweezers, so forget the knee bends. Instead, one hand on the sink and one hand on the toilet seat (that little half-bath doesn't have a lot of maneuvering room) I slid down to the floor.  It took a bit of energy but I made it down, grabbed those precious tweezers, and slowly huffed and puffed myself back up to a standing position.

Tweezers in hand, face once again approaching the magnifying mirror, I suddenly stood still. Picked up my glasses and returned them to their rightful place, on my face. Looked again into that magnifying mirror that never hides the ugly truth. Especially with my glasses on.

And ... well, yes ... that's when reality hit me.  I could no longer avoid it.  After all I'd gone through to harvest those chin hairs (which I hadn't yet plucked); after all that huffing and puffing to retrieve those tweezers ... I looked in the mirror and saw TRUTH. 

I sur-ren-der-ed to-being-a-Senior-Citizen. Moan. Groan. Sigh. Reality had won.  It could no longer be tucked away in its pretty box.

So be it. Senior Citizen I am. Defeated, or victorious? Defeated by reality maybe - but victorious anyway, 'cause I may be a "Senior" again, but I still AM!  And ... I have a daughter who, years ago, promised to pluck those renegade hairs from my old chin if ever I got to where I couldn't do so myself. 

After this episode I may be taking her up on that promise sooner than we both thought ...