I’m Feeling a Bit Plucky Lately
When did tweezers become the most used utensil in my bathroom?
They used to call women with chin hair witches as if a little facial hair was an indication of magical abilities or, worse, evil tendencies. If you had a mole on your chin too, you were as good as labeled.
So, in the words of Monty Python’s Holy Grail…
We have found a witch. May we burn ‘er?
How do you know she’s a witch?
Well, she looks like one.
I don’t mind the label so much, as I ascribe to all the positive associations with the word — wise woman, healer, herbalist, tender of the home and hearth, maker of magic.
But the beard! I could do without the beard.
Every few days or so, a new twig pops out of my chin or my upper lip. Sharp, prickly, and annoying as all get out.
If I touch it with my finger, and it draws blood, I beeline for the tweezers. After all, I wouldn’t want to be guilty of assault on my husband when he leans in for a kiss.
I can usually stay on top of these sprouts of rough meadow grass, but once in a while, I feel like I need to pull out the lawnmower.
