Unwanted Hair

Everyone over fifty years of age suffers from a very common problem; however, no one likes to talk about it. The plague that I’m referring to is unwanted hair. Our hair follicles betray us and we end up with hair in places that hair has never grown before. Women struggle to stop the growth of unsightly chin hair or that hideous mustache. Men have hair growing out of their ears, on their ear lobes or massive growths of hair coming out their noses. The eyebrows pose another problem for both men and women. It is amazing the way hair grows in that location. There are always those rebellious hairs that refuse to conform to the growth pattern of all the other eyebrow hairs. They run amok by corkscrewing, twisting this way and that, and of course there are those gray ones that grow faster and longer and more coarse than the others. Actually, the eyebrow dilemma is the reason that I address this unwanted hair issue.

Before I get into this I want to offer an apology to all of my jock buddies. I am about to mention something I have done that may make you throw the yellow flag on me for unmanly-like conduct. You may say that I’ve stepped out of bounds by revealing more of my feminine side than you care to hear. For this I am sorry, but before you disqualify me completely I want you to realize that what you are about to read may save you from great pain and anguish someday.

A couple of years ago my wife suggested that I go have my hair styled at the place where she got her hair done. I balked at first, but finally agreed to go. She got me an appointment with a real cute young lady named Dana. I was given the same treatment that all of Dana’s customers got. She took me back to a room where I was told to lie down on a padded table. The first thing I noticed when I walked into the room was that it was dimly lit with the sound of beautiful soft oriental music. My head rested comfortably over a sink where Dana began the shampooing process, massaging my head the whole time until finally warm water rinsed away all the suds. I’ll have to admit it was a very relaxing experience. We then went back to Dana’s chair where she cut and styled my hair. I was surprised to be taken back for another shampoo and then came an absolute first for me. Dana began spraying something from a bottle that fell as a soothing mist covering my face -- something that smelled so good. Then she began rubbing my forehead, my cheeks, my chin, and all over my face. I thought, “man this feels great!” I can look forward to something like this! When Dana finished she laid a hot towel over my face, and I just relaxed for a while almost dozing off. Finally it was time to go back to her chair where my hair was blown dry, combed and jelled leaving my hair looking like it had never looked before. It really looked good and the whole experience was fantastic.

From that day on Dana became my personal “barber”. She most likely would not want to be called a barber. Her place is nothing like the barber shops where I used to go for a haircut. No spittoons, no hair all over the floor, no Field and Stream magazines laying around, no dirty jokes being told by some old man just passing the time of day, nothing at all that looks like the places I usually went for a haircut. Dana’s place is nicely decorated, clean, pleasant, a place not only to get a haircut, but a place for a pedicure or manicure, a full body massage, and I’m sure things for which I have no idea.

Recently I was getting ready to go to Dana’s to get my haircut and enjoy the usual relaxing treatment that I had on my first visit and each of the times I’ve been since. Just as I was walking out the door my wife said, “Tell Dana to do your eyebrows.”

Men, remember this phrase, “Do the eyebrows”. I can tell you now I did not know what that meant.

I was aware that my eyebrows needed attention. I would try to grab some of those wild gray hairs and pull them out, but unfortunately, those wild hairs had gotten away from me. My eyebrows were taking over my forehead. I knew I had problems because every time I went outside small birds hovered over my head waiting for a chance to nest in that thick bush above my eyes. When my wife said, “Have Dana do your eyebrows”, I thought she would just take the old clippers and thin them out and trim them up. Simple enough, I thought.

So when I sat down in her chair I said, “Dana, could you do my eyebrows?”

That was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made. Everything started out just as always. Nice shampoo, back to the chair for the haircut, back to the dimly lit room, nice music, padded table, another shampoo, good smelling mist in the face, massage the face, hot towel, heaven all over again. Then, all hell broke loose! The towel was removed. I lay there relaxed, on the verge of dream land, and I feel this sharp pain just above my eyes. Dana was plucking my eyebrows. Not a pleasant thing, but I could take it. I should have expected that. There was a lot of plucking and I was relieved when it was over. I was ready to get up when Dana started rubbing my face again. I thought, I can certainly handle some more of this, especially after the pain from the plucking. The rubbing felt good and in the right place too. She was rubbing right between my eyes. That felt wonderful, yet kind of strange. Then the rubbing felt more like a pressing.

“What is she doing? She’s never done this before.”

I’m not sure what happened next. There was a deafening sound; a ripping sound that I’m sure was heard all over the shopping area. I may be exaggerating, but one thing I can say for certain, I was in great pain -- no, it was excruciating! I was relieved that my vision was still in tact; no damage to my eyes. She had ripped about two layers of skin from between my eyes. No warning -- no one, two, three, go. There was no, “this may sting a bit”. No piece of wood to grip between my teeth. No, I had just learned what, “Doing the eyebrows means”. I had just experienced my first and last unibrow waxing.

I was fully recovered in about a week. For three or four days I displayed what appeared to be a misplaced bindi between my eyes and I‘m certainly not an Indian woman.

Someone would say, “What’s wrong with your head?’

“Just a little rash”, I said, preferring not to discuss it.

At least my eyebrows looked nice. Actually, I think nice looking eyebrows are overrated. One thing is for sure. I will never again say, “Dana, would you do my eyebrows?”