The Hair

When it comes to self grooming, there is nothing I love more than plucking. I pluck everything. Eyebrows. Armpit hairs. Any facial hair that thinks it should see the light of day. Those little hairs that grow back into your knee skin when your leg razor doesn't get close enough. Big toe hairs. The occasional stray nose hair. The gray hairs that shoot out of nowhere when I'm minding my own business and trying to give myself a nice blowout. If it grows, I will pluck it. Go where you want to with that but that's as far as I'm going.

This fine specimen, however, is not from my person. It is a hairus eyebrowicus of The Good Doctor variety. Three times as long as any of his other eyebrow hairs. Every month or so, one of these mutants will emerge above his eye. It will dangle down and tangle with his eyelash at the most inconvenient times. When he finally gets tired of licking his finger and smoothing it back into place, he calls in the Professional. 

I'm a tweezer ninja. I wield my pluckers like nunchuks. So fast, so smooth, so SUDDEN DEATH TO THE HAIR.

But I'm only as good as my subject. And in this case, it's like jumping double dutch because every time The Good Doctor bends over far enough for me to bring my tweezer chuks into range, he instantly snaps back up and exhales rapidly 10 times whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. Wait for it, wait for it, JUMP IN, no I missed it. Wait for it, wait for it. The double dutch cycle of tweezing wears on my patience because come ON, it's ONE TINY HAIR. It can't hurt as bad as the 3 nose hairs I just plucked!

Behold. I eventually prevail every time. Lucky for me, The Good Doctor gets crazy Sarah Palin's gone ROGUE hairs that require my services from time to time. They are one of the many reasons we stay married. He's mayor of my plucker's paradise. I'm president and CEO.

What's your grooming obsession?