Gravity Is Not My Friend...

...why what goes up needs to STAY there


Recovery from surgery has been going really well, knock wood and Lord willing. Some soreness, some back pain, little annoyances all, but I am doing great for just a week and 2 days out from surgery.  However, in the spirit of full disclosure I must say that in addition to dealing not only with the issues specific to recovering from weight-loss surgery and surgery in general, I spotted a new-old nemesis yesterday.  

The big, black, bristly Chin Whisker.  A relative of The Humility Pimple referred to in a previous post.

This hair used to live happily among my eyebrows, framing my face and giving added expression and zest to my communications, verbal and otherwise.  My eyebrows used to be lush, thick and jet black.  I actually had the nerve to complain about having too much eyebrow hair.  I am learning now that it is much easier, regarding eyebrows, to have too much to work with.

I used to hear middle-aged women in my family talk about how "things fall down" as we get older.  Chests drop and droop, fannies sink, and cheeks become jowly.  I always knew these changes were awaiting me as I approached a "certain age".  They never told me that gravity would apply to my hair as well!  Such an indignity!  The lush, black hair that used to adorn the top of my head and those abundant eyebrows of mine has started appearing on my upper lip and chin.  This is not the nicest kind of surprise for a woman to discover.

Is there a kind of hair transplant for eyebrows that could restore mine to their former glory?  I know there are removal methods for the facial hair that we don't want, and I've experimented with some of those.  It seems sad to remove hair from one place when I need it in another...like I am wasting hair somehow.

We live in a culture that embraces a very narrow standard of beauty, both in the literal narrowness of a woman's waist and hips, and the broader narrowness, if you will, of the images were are subjected to/ bombarded with, depicting the feminine American ideal.  That ideal does not include mustaches and beards on female faces.  If I lived someplace else, someplace more forgiving, maybe the Chin Whisker would not bother me as much as it does.  But I live in the good old US of A, the breadbasket of the world (just don't eat too much of that bread), the place where the slightest imperfection is noticed and scrutinized.  So Mr. Whisker gets tweezed, while the eyebrows get filled in with a little extra color.  That deals with the perverse irony of thinning and misplaced hair.  I will save the rant about grey for another post!

We are now giddy with anticipation, aren't we?!