THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, October 20, 1996 TAG: 9610160045
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K1 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: REAL MOMENTS
SOURCE: BY CAMMY SESSA, SPECIAL TO THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
LENGTH: 54 lines
A JOURNALIST WHO has spent a good part of her life reporting on fashion and beauty can't help but notice how, after retirement, certain changes take place in men and women her age that are never mentioned in the Centrum Silver advertisements.
Hair follicles go awry.
My son-in-law brought this to my attention a few weeks ago when he said: ``You know you're over the hill when the barber spends more time cutting the hair in your ears than on your head.''
Ah, yes. Body hair.
I've noticed there's not much left on my body. Hair is barely there.
Where did it go?
I'll tell you. . . .
My face.
At the time when that face is overburdened with glasses, wrinkles and sagging jowls, stiff pricks of white hair pop out on chin and upper lip with determined regularity.
They are always totally unexpected.
Flying back from a Florida vacation last year, I was acting terribly knowing and sure of myself while talking to a fellow passenger. To further my air of sophistication, I placed my elbow on an arm rest and fixed the back of my hand under my chin.
Then I felt it - A CHIN WHISKER!
Where's a parachute? Get me off this plane, I thought.
All pseudo-sophistication gone, the conversation ended abruptly as I quickly headed for the restroom, hoping my trusty magnifying mirror and tweezers were inside my purse.
Which reminds me of a story I once heard about the last will and testament of an elderly spinster. The will stipulated that her nieces were to be disinherited if, when she died, any chin whiskers could be found on her face.
But chin whiskers are nothing compared to the long, bushy eyebrows some men seem to cultivate. I often wonder why their wives don't take shears in hand and clip. clip, clip.
My husband stands before a mirror shaving every day but misses a 2-inch eyebrow hair aiming for his cornea. I ask: ``Can't you see that wild hair? I'm sure it's impairing your vision.''
Come to think of it, he has double vision. One vision sees me before going out the door when I ask him how I look and he answers ``OK'' or ``great.'' The second vision appears just as I am about to alight from the car in front of church, theater, opera house or doctor's office, when he observes, ``You have lipstick on your teeth,'' or ``You still have a curler in your hair.''
I get back at him when he's driving and Ispot a few nose hairs he forgot to clip.
I remain silent. We're in this together.
Body hair - it just isn't fair. by CNB