More hair

Nigel Farage with a Hare on his shoulder
Hare on a nipple

Can talk about hairy nipples?

I’m exaggerating, actually A hair on A nipple.

I’ll start from the beginning, normally I don’t see the point of shaving legs in the colder months. After all that’s what trousers are for right? If you’re married, your husband shouldn’t be picky about what you look like naked in case you enact the ‘til death do us part’ of the contract. Anyway, if he knew how much waxing products/services cost he’ll wholeheartedly support keepin’ it real for the sake of the household finances. ‘Your bikini line will have to wait love, the TV licence is due’.

However I was thinking of wearing a dress in public, so I was in the bathroom applying the magic shower cream which makes hair disappear when I started contemplating whether it would be really cool to use a piping bag to write a message in my leg hair. It would be really powerful. Imagine a feminist message written in leg hair.

I’m totally doing this. ‘Screw the’ on the left shin, ‘patriarchy’ on the right. That’s when I noticed a black hair emerging out of my nippular region.

Shocked I grab a pair of scissors and trim the offending hair.

  1. Q) What’s worse than nipple hair?
  2. A) Nipple stubble.

Now I’m going to spend ages trying to grab the damn thing with a pair of tweezers. Rubbish tweezers too, I’m too cheap to by decent ones, I might as well be using chopsticks.

I try using chopsticks, at least if I’m caught doing this I can pretend that I’m just retrieving a noodle, I mean everyone eats Chinese food in the bathroom right? You know, there are worse things than nipple hair, like when I realised I have hair growing out of the mole on my face, that’s right readers, ON MY MOTHER LOVIN’ FACE.

I asked my friends why they didn’t tell me that I had hair growing out of the mole on my face. The replies were unsatisfactory: ‘Because you might have cursed me’ (cowardly), ‘Because I was focusing on my mother’s funeral at the time’ (selfish), ‘I was distracted by the chopsticks sticking out your bra’ (inattentive), and ‘You have mirrors right?’ (fair point).

Thing is that when I look into mirrors, I don’t really look, you know? I’m a busy person, so I just write my death threat in red lipstick and leave. I don’t examine my face in any detail. Unless I’ve sustained a facial injury, then I can’t help but look. In fact I take pictures and share them with all my friends and their acquaintances. My FB album looks like the story board for the Elephant Man.

I digress. I feel that now that it has hair, my mole should really be up graded to ‘wart’ and therefore I have earned the title ‘crone’ My new status makes me feel more comfortable about the nipple hair, I’m not an ugly old woman, I’m an excellent crone. Perspective – see?

Back to the nipple hair…Distracted, I go into the shower too soon and simply wash off the magic leg hair cream and the hair is still there. Great, my unwanted hair is impervious to chemical attack. In fact by exposing it to low-level chemicals without killing it, I have possibly made it stronger. Now my legs and armpits will turn green when I’m angry. Also they are still hairy.

This is not fair. I just wanted to shave my legs, but not only did I fail to do that, I’ve discovered two extra follicle sources. I went into the shower normal(ish), I have emerged as Captain Caveman.

Captain Cave man

Hair today…

Theresa May
My new haircut

I’ve had my hair cut, and it’s kind of big deal, because a) I massively overestimate my importance, it’s what makes me so damn adorable, b) I had a LOADS taken off c) I go to the hair dressers about as often as I have major surgery. I prefer the surgery tbh.

In my opinion there is a bit of a tendency in the health and beauty industry to exaggerate the need for regular visits. If I regularly postpone smear tests, skipping a few trips to the salon isn’t going to bother me. Split ends don’t cause cancer (hairdresser looks at me as if to say, ‘but do they though?’)

I don’t think I’ve ever had a facial where the therapist hasn’t told me I should be having more facials despite my only having the one face. Now that they’re not free anymore, dentists do this sales stuff too. Last time I went my dentist said my teeth worked fine, but they weren’t white enough. I asked him when did dentistry get all racist? Sorry Mr Dentist, but if I was going to ‘un-yellow’ bits of me, I’d start with my liver. Then my dentist asked me if I drink red wine, I said, thanks, but this Rosé is fine, and he said that’s the mouth rinse, and you’re supposed to spit it out. Pretentious wanker.

It’s the opticians I feel sorry for. There’s not much they can say to you really, once you’ve done the eye test, and your sight is fine, that’s pretty much it. They can’t really add, ‘Would you like a quick eyeball polish? Or ‘we recommend that you try blinking more and wherever possible incorporate NOT JABBING YOURSELF IN THE EYE into your daily routine.’

Any way I was inspired to go the hairdressers by a friend of mine, who’d just had her long hair cut to a gorgeous bob. She’d even donated her lopped off locks to a charity which makes wigs for little girls who’ve lost their hair undergoing chemotherapy. I was going to do the same, but on second thoughts I really wouldn’t wish my split-ends on some poor bald girl. She’s got enough problems without a wig of badly dyed blonde hair making her look more chav than an extra from Eastenders.

I take the attitude that there is a ceiling to what I can really achieve with this hair and beauty thing. I could spend a small fortune chemically manipulating my hair and skin so they look consistently immaculate, but there’s no getting around the fact that my head looks like something God came up with when he was arseing about on his etch-a-sketch. If I was sensible I’d shave my head, but then I’d be cold and the cancer kids are hogging all the wigs, so I think I’ll stick to hats.