I have a hair on my chin I'm obsessed with, I've been picking at it all day. I can't quite yank it out with my fingers, it's too short and the kids have kidnapped my tweezers.
I'm sure they ended up in the couch somewhere because that's where all my grooming hardware that's been taken by my kids ends up.
I've found that this hair is just long enough that if I tug on it just right it curls up like that ribbon you stretch with scissors. I find this fascinating.
Now that I've hit forty and my hormones are starting to shift around I have hair growing in odd spots on my face. I found an eyebrow hair in the middle of my forehead last week. I am not kidding it was an eyebrow hair smack in between my hairline and my eyebrows.
Instead of standing in front of the mirror pulling my face back to see how I'd look with a facelift or using more moisturizer I'm watching for random, voluntary hairs to appear on my face. It doesn't leave scars and it doesn't cost me anything.
However, even *I* am finding this a little weird. Standing in front of the mirror looking for hair? On your face? Isn't that a little nitpicky? Or hair-picky?
Here comes the point.
The last week has hammered home the fact that there are so many things I have no control over. I can control how I respond, what actions I can take, but I can't make things not happen. My druthers would be to have none of the drama happen.
I can control this little hair on my chin. I can decide if it stays because no one will see it and I like toying with it.
I can decide what happens with my own body and I choose to control my grooming regime. Vain? Yes. Shallow? Probably. Time waster? Maybe.
It gives me something to focus on besides the chaos going on around me. Something to think about besides the burn on my leg and if it's getting better. Something besides the piles of dishes in the sink, the husband who needs to be watched carefully, not because I'm afraid there's going to be a relapse or whatever but because I love him and I'm worried. It gives me a small vacation from keeping an eye on my kids and encouraging them to get their laundry sorted and put away so we'll be ready for school next week.
Thanks to this weird little hair on my chin I'm able to keep myself together. Odd? Sure. I'm taking any port in this storm though, including a wiry sprout on my chinny-chin-chin.
Amanda's beauty tip of the day: Pointy tweezers are the best for plucking specific hairs. Make sure you keep them clean.