Say hello to my hairy friend

I was crafting with my six year old, Dillon, recently. You know painting, glittering, gluing. It was all over my hands and wrists. So when Dillon informed me I had a moustache, I calmly wiped the back of my hand against the top of my mouth and smiled at him.

"No, Mom. A real one."

Nothing will stop a woman in her tracks faster than being told she has a moustache. A real one.

I bolted to the mirror and OH MY GOD he was right! I did have a moustache. And I don't mean a few stray hairs I had to strain to look for. A fourteen year old boy would have been jealous of this thing!! How could this have formed without my knowledge, and more puzzling was how did I not feel it? Ewwww……….. I had a moustache!

Nair to the rescue! Have you ever tried that stuff? My God, it smells like a cross between eggs & sewage. It's nasty, but I would've applied boiling acid to myself if that's what it took to get rid of the 'stache'.

Two minutes of Nair and………..it was still there. Somehow some of it had withheld. And oddly I had a burn mark on the corner of my upper lip. As if the hair wasn't noticeable enough, now I had a bright red mark hi-lighting the thing. An accent point, if you will.

I plucked the remaining hairs. And may I just say……OUCH THAT SHIT HURTS. Fucking hell it hurt. I had tears coming out of my eyes it hurt so damn bad. But I am proud to say that I am now hair free!

Until next time.