I haven't got time for the vain...
Sorry if the following is TMI or anything, but this doesn't involve wiping boogies on walls or stripper farts or anything (
erikamoen, this does not mean I do not love reading your stuff). Just the human body, and the myriad ways it has to make you stare into the mirror and ask, "Why?"
So a few years back I had either shaved my head, or cut it so close it might as well have been bald, and one of my assistant managers (We'll call him Ed Reese) remarked that I had more hair in my ears than on my head.
Now, I'm not saying Ed is responsible for the birth of a new age of self-consciousness, but I will say that I had never plucked anything on my body, hair-wise, before then. Seriously, ever since then I've had this mental image of myself secure in the knowledge that if I ever go bald, I could use my ear hair to perform the comb-over. So I pluck every so often. Ladies, I apologize for not being more sympathetic to the plucking lifestyle. Because that shit sucks hairy balls, if you'll pardon the expression. There is nothing fun about pulling things out of you. EXCEPT for those occasional hair follicles on your face (if you're a dude) that get some sort of biological power-up and become a super-follicle, and produce this massive, thick black beard hair that has the strength of ten normal hairs. Those I will pluck just because they're really weird. But other than that, plucking any part of your body is about as fun as being forced to watch a "The McLehrer Hour" marathon on TV.
Today we stopped at Target on the way back from taking Steph to the eye doctor and I finally bought myself an ear/nose hair trimmer. Now, I had thought that buying one of these would make me feel like either a septuagenarian, some kind of pituitary freak, or both. Instead, once I got home and shaved my ears bald, I feel strangely... more attractive. Or at least that much less self-conscious. I don't know what that says about me as a person...
Now all I need is the gut/double-chin trimmer and I'll be all set.
erikamoen, this does not mean I do not love reading your stuff). Just the human body, and the myriad ways it has to make you stare into the mirror and ask, "Why?"So a few years back I had either shaved my head, or cut it so close it might as well have been bald, and one of my assistant managers (We'll call him Ed Reese) remarked that I had more hair in my ears than on my head.
Now, I'm not saying Ed is responsible for the birth of a new age of self-consciousness, but I will say that I had never plucked anything on my body, hair-wise, before then. Seriously, ever since then I've had this mental image of myself secure in the knowledge that if I ever go bald, I could use my ear hair to perform the comb-over. So I pluck every so often. Ladies, I apologize for not being more sympathetic to the plucking lifestyle. Because that shit sucks hairy balls, if you'll pardon the expression. There is nothing fun about pulling things out of you. EXCEPT for those occasional hair follicles on your face (if you're a dude) that get some sort of biological power-up and become a super-follicle, and produce this massive, thick black beard hair that has the strength of ten normal hairs. Those I will pluck just because they're really weird. But other than that, plucking any part of your body is about as fun as being forced to watch a "The McLehrer Hour" marathon on TV.
Today we stopped at Target on the way back from taking Steph to the eye doctor and I finally bought myself an ear/nose hair trimmer. Now, I had thought that buying one of these would make me feel like either a septuagenarian, some kind of pituitary freak, or both. Instead, once I got home and shaved my ears bald, I feel strangely... more attractive. Or at least that much less self-conscious. I don't know what that says about me as a person...
Now all I need is the gut/double-chin trimmer and I'll be all set.
good