The Folly of Chasing the Hair of the Dog

Chuckle #436 | January 5th, 2011
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I’ve learned several really important things during my lifetime. One is that “chasing the hair of the dog” is in fact a myth perpetuated by drunken Englishmen. Another is that there is a definite “point of no return” when plucking eyebrows. Once you tweeze past that point, an already bad situation will only get much, much worse.

Given that my tweezers are the second thing I reach for when I’m all liquored-up and bored, I get to do a lot of eyebrow reconstruction. I can now repair some pretty ugly “plucking” faux pas including “Perplexed Picasso”, “Angry Manga”, and “the Marlene Dietrich”. All it takes is a steady hand and well sharpened eyebrow pencil - which can be elusive given that an extra drink probably caused the problem in the first place.

I think women over-tweeze because we are always seeking perfection.

I suppose it IS possible that we are all just one hair away from revealing the supermodel within. But it is more likely that God intended us to develop this aggravating layer of fur later in life and that by willy nilly plucking it out we are messing with his/her grand design. (My apologies to Mr. Hawking.)

No worries though. If the mistake can’t be fixed, the hair will eventually grow back.

But that is exactly the problem, hair grows. And as I enter my late forties, this “hair” is becoming more and more of an issue.

They say men become increasingly hirsute as they age, virtual teddy bears. Women get hairy in a more disturbingly random way. Let’s just say that eyebrows are the least of my “stray hair” worries.

I’m always in pursuit of that mysterious extra-long chin hair. Where does it come from, what is it’s purpose? And what’s with those wiry black witch hairs that seem to spring up overnight? Certain tender body parts are glamorously glabrous no more. Maybe it’s time to talk full body wax job.

Of course all this talk of “new” hair is an undeniably clever way for me to segue into the topic of the “new” year and my “New” Year’s resolutions. Or so I’d like to think.

So stash your tweezers, put down your drink, and ready yourself for what I’ve got planned for 2011…Drum roll please…

1) I resolve to NEVER buy the 8 pound platter of Baklava from Costco ever again. (No one likes Baklava that much, which is why normal stores sell it only in tiny packages.) If I come to your house bearing Baklava, you’ll know why.

2) I resolve to find and use-up all those partially redeemed gift cards that are lying around the house like plastic pirate treasure, no matter who’s they are. I hereby lay claim to them.

3) I resolve to finally use or throw out all the weird stuff I’ve been shoving into the back of my pantry. (Even the freeze dried Persian food and the Falafel mix, both of which seemed like such a good idea 3 years ago.)

4) And finally, I resolve to spend less time conducting “search and destroy” follicle missions so that I can spend more quality time with my loving family. I’m pretty sure they’ll accept me as I am; crazy witch hairs and all.

But just in case my hirsute-self grosses them out, I won’t get rid of the tweezers quite yet. I’m still waiting for that freakishly long chin hair to make its 2011 debut. When it does I’ll be ready and waiting…
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