Pluck it, I'm 50

Hello, Gorgeous! what I say to my reflection in the mirror every morning. Is that so wrong? There is a fair amount of squinting that precludes this proclamation. I am somewhat ashamed to admit this, because, for fuck's sake, I'm a grown ass woman and I need to learn to let go of the need to feel pretty. Also, I look damn good even without squinting, from the right angle, in the proper lighting, after a good night's rest and a sufficient amount of moisturizing. That is, unless I shove a magnifying mirror at my face. Then all bets are off.

My daughter took our magnifying mirror with her to college and I've been using a little 10x compact mirror since. A magnifying mirror helps with things like applying liquid liner, attaching false eyelashes, filling in of eyebrows, or plucking of random hairs. I have to remove my glasses to perform these tasks, and without them and magnification, I can't see for shit. One of the cool things about being over 50 is that random hair sprouts overnight in all manner of strange places. It's like a game, find that random hair! Even more fun, random hair seems to enjoy sprouting in groups. So it's more like, find those random hairs! Huzzah!

I hate them. Screw you, random hairs.

I have a very good pair of tweezers. They were a considered purchase. After several years of deliberation and frustration with a mediocre pair of tweezers, I took the plunge. They're Tweezerman tweezers, which I have found to be the best of the bunch. Disclosure, that's an affiliate link, which is how I can afford a fabulous pair of $14.00 (marked down from $20.00) tweezers, so help a girl out and use it if you're thinking of taking the plunge. Fair warning, Tweezerman tweezers are sharp, so a good magnifying mirror is important to avoid plucking your skin with the hairs. Trust me when I tell you, this is painful.

This leads me to yesterday, when I decided it was high time I replaced my errant magnifying mirror. I perused a panoply of choices in the beauty aisle at TJ Maxx/Home Goods. I settled on a swiveling silver model. Then I spied, with my little eye, the number and letter combo 12x on a sticker emblazoned on a smaller mirror.

12x?! What? They make such a thing?

Dare I pick this 12x magnifying mirror up and look into it?

I dared.

This was followed by a horrified gasp as I realized the proliferation of random hairs was far worse than my 10x mirror had led me to believe. Damn you, 10x mirror! How could you let me wander around with a plethora of whiskers jutting defiantly from my crater sized pores? What the hell is wrong with you?

Mirror, mirror, in my bag and not on the wall, who's the biggest lying liar of them all?

You are, bitch. 

We're finished. Kindly pack up your belongings and get out. You've been replaced by my new best frenemy, 12x mirror. This morning, I spent the better part of ten minutes canoodling with my new frenemy, Tweezermans in hand. I'm pleased to report that a shocking number of random hairs met their untimely demise.

This is my life, now. I have come to accept it. The hair thing is not going to improve. There are also the soft blonde hairs that have increased exponentially leaving what amounts to a downy peach fuzz from cheeks to bottom of neck. These are removed with a disposable razor, which is also a fabulous way to battle dead skin cells. It's the poor girl's microplaning!

In the grand cosmic scheme, the indignities of aging most definitely beat the alternative. Still, it makes me feel better to battle back the ravages of time even if I can't keep them from advancing. I don't like random hairs and I'll be damned if I will let them win.

Pluck it, I'm 50.

Oh fine, I'm turning 54. Age is just a number, right? I refuse to go gentle into that good night, so when the time comes that 12x magnification is no longer sufficient, I will seek out 14x with a relentless vengeance.

Thusly, I will be able to continue to declare, "Hello, Gorgeous!" 


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