If Only I Were Jamaican, I Would Have Beaded It

Last weekend Brad and I spent most of our time at Home Depot since the store is closing and everything was 40-60% off. We were able to get some great deals on things for the new house which was awesome but it meant dealing with tons and tons of people. Brad and I are pretty good in mobs of people and we were doing just fine. Since we had some time to kill in the checkout line, I ran to the back of the store to go to the bathroom.

As I stood at the sink washing my hands, I audibly gasped at my reflection in the mirror. I'll be the first to admit that I wasn't looking my best but that's not what actually bothered me. The sight I saw was far beyond my poor choice in clothing. There, perched along my upper lip, were the darkest, longest, grossest black hairs you have ever seen. It looked like a catepillar had taken up residence on my face and I wanted to die.

I've always known I was a hairy girl. I'm Portugese for goodness sakes (not Puerto Rican.) It comes with the territory. But I've always thought I had a pretty good handle on it. I WAS SO WRONG.

I literally shielded my face as I made my way up to the front of the store as waves of panic hit me. Suddenly, I was THAT GIRL. You know THAT GIRL, the one in high school that everyone spoke about in hushed tones because she resembled a wholly mammoth and no one wanted to tell her. That was me. Mammoth face, out in flourescent lighting everywhere, for the past 31 years looking like Chewbaca's lost little sister.

Thankfully, Megan was watching our kids and when we got to her house, I told her to immediately plug in her wax because we had some serious work to do. She thankfully agreed to help my fur face and we got to work.

You wouldn't think that something like waxing would normally be all that funny, but I think what ensued may have been the hardest Megan and I have ever laughed in our lives. She started with my brows, routinely making comments like "wow, I've never seen so much dark hair before," and "we'll have to go over everything twice because there's just SO MUCH HAIR." While completely mortified, I still found it funny and we laughed and laughed. When she got to my upper lip, she commented on my whiskers (oh no she di'nt!) and I think she had to do the whole thing two or three times. Horrifying, but well worth it.

So here I am now, walking around fuzz free and feeling a whole lot better about myself. As I've thought over the last few days about my previously hairy self, one thought has returned to me time and time again: HOW COME NONE OF YOU EVER TOLD ME?????? This is the kind of thing a girl has got to know. It's not like I had a booger in my nose which is still embarrassing but easily taken care of (btw, thanks for the heads up the other day Heather.) We have got to stick together on this stuff ladies. Seriously. What's funny now is that all of you smooth faced girls are just heading into your follicularly challenged years and when you all start growing a 'stach, my lips will be sealed. For at least 31 years....