While smearing some make-up around on my face this morning, I noticed something that simply wasn’t there yesterday.
A half-inch long hair, growing out of my cheek.
I’m not sure why I am even willing to admit this on the world wide web, but it is what it is. After the age of thirty, you apparently begin to grow stray hairs at random locations. No one tells you this in any sort of college course that you take. Sure, they teach you about meiosis and mitosis. You learn about linear hierarchy, Plutocracy, ancient civilizations, ionization energy, and diagrams of the grammatical structure of sentences, but no college professor will stand in front of a class and quite soberly say, “And by the time you reach the age of thirty-five, class, you will have hairs sprouting out of your cheeks.”
Clearly, I was unprepared for this.
I looked at Hubs and stated the sad and the obvious: “I have a half-inch long hair growing out of my cheek.”
Hubs looked at it and replied, “Well, it is Halloween. Why don’t you incorporate it into your costume this year?”
He’s positively lucky that I didn’t crash my broom over the top of his cute little head.