Millie on hairs

Women’s hair. Not your crowning glory, the coarse black evil ones that sprout from every part of your body once you hit 30 and beyond.

We all like to pretend that we wouldn’t know anything about it, moustaches, beards, mole hairs – yes the black hair that sticks out at 90 degrees from your beautiful moles, chin whiskers, bum fluff, bikini fur, armpit hair and the best, nostril hair like Norman Lamont.

It took years of courage for me to utter the immortal words to the poor woman who deals with my downstairs growths “do I have a tash….. truthfully?” I of course expected her to guffaw loudly and reassure me that I was being ridiculous to even suggest such a thing. She suggested a lip wax “just to be on the safe side” Safe side? Lord above, I’ve joined the club of un-cleansed hippy women I used to endlessly ridicule with their facial misdemeanours akin to Chewbacca.

I’ve been so desperate in between my facial waxes, so disturbed by the whiskers sprouting out of my boat race I’ve even considered a full chin shave a la hubby. What in god’s name have I done to deserve the sheer amounts? It’s like mowing a lawn, they come back after a week.

Until the 70s un-landscaped “muff is the stuff” movement comes back I think we are all resigned to our growths, until we hit that magical age where as my grandmother once put it so eloquently, “you don’t need to worry at my age dear, I’m as bald as a coot”…….