On nose hairs and mustaches
I am grateful for my husband for many reasons. One thing in particular I appreciate is his honesty. When I ask dreaded questions such as, “Do I look fat in this,” he knows that I actually want an honest answer. I’d rather he tell me that my muffin top is exposed than sport a double waistline around town.
Most days anyway.
Years ago we were laying on our bed talking when he reached out, touched my upper lip and asked, “When are you going to take care of the mustache you’re sporting?”
Ahem. Excuse me??
Well, lucky for him, I knew he was swimming in an uncharted territory and completely nervous, which I found absolutely hilarious!
My response?? I laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
And then I waxed.
For years I’ve given him no end of grief abut this, but secretly, was thrilled that he felt it was safe enough to tell me!
From that day on, I’ve religiously waxed, not bleached, not ignored, but waxed that persistent fuzz growing on my upper lip.
Fast forward a few years to this December, 2008. My dear attentive husband started a conversation with me with the following words, “Promise you won’t take what I say next personally?”
Um, NO!! I can’t make that promise. I take a lot of things personally!!
As I was telling him that I, under no circumstances, wanted to hear something that may hurt my feelings he blurted out, “You have really long nose hairs! You need to trim them!”
????? Um OK?
Thank God for husbands like mine, huh? Can you imagine what I’d look like without his help?
Shudder!! It would not be pretty!!
Anyways, immediately after I was enlightened to the fact that my unusually large nostrils had hair really long hair protruding out of them, I got down to the business of trimming last damn hair I could find.
When I finished the excavation I sadly realized that my nose now itched thanks to the small, stubby hairs that remained.
Now, when I say that I appreciate my husband’s honesty, I should also mention that this doesn’t give him a free pass. Once he opens the door, I feel completely free to walk through it and continue to discuss my imperfections with him at will.
So, later in the day I walked up to Hub and part whined, part informed him how itchy my nostrles were.
His response?
“Better your nostrils itching than your upper lip!”
Really, what else was there to say?