It’s an ordinary day. And like any other day, I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror – and more importantly, a glimpse of the sunlight glimmering off of my ‘stache.
Yes. I have a mustache. No, it’s not dark. Well, most of it isn’t. I can fairly easily pluck the few pesky dark hairs from my upper lip (and the maddening one on my chin). It’s the rest of the blonde stuff in full bloom that drives me crazy. And in the summer, as my skin gets darker and my hair gets lighter, I feel like I’m sporting a full-blown fem-stache all season long. (If you can relate, I love you. I feel your pain. Solidarity, sister.) (If you cannot relate, well, LALALALALALAICAN’THEARYOU LALALALALAEVERYONEGETSASTACHEINTHEIRTHIRTIES LALALALALALARIGHT!??!)
Yes. I have tried waxing. Also threading. Both make me break out so horribly that I’ve long forsaken those methods.
So, back to the ordinary day. In the glow of my fem-stache, I declare, “I’m going to Nair that sh&%.”
To Target, I go. The hair removal product selection does not disappoint, and I stare for five solid minutes at the array. I finally (and wisely) zero in on products actually formulated for the FACE. I choose a product that is not Nair, but is Nair-like, and is, indeed, made for use on the face. I confidently proceed to the checkout line and purchase my not-Nair-but-close-enough “Hair Removal Creme.” (Creme, not cream, because creme looks fancy. And I will only remove my fem-stache with something fancy. Obvi.)
Back at home, I open the box to review the instructions (because I’m a first-born, Type A, and WE ALWAYS READ THE INSTRUCTIONS.) (EVEN IF WE DON’T PLAN ON FOLLOWING THEM.) I note the standard warning to “test the product on a small area first. Wait 24 hrs to check for redness or irritation before proceeding.” I promptly disregard this warning and slather The Hair Removal Creme on my upper lip. I then get ambitious and decide to attack the pesky dark hair follicle on my chin. Before long, I’m going hog-wild and the next thing I know I’m sporting a FULL BEARD of Hair Removal Creme. I pull myself together just in time to NOT apply it to my forehead.
I check my watch and pass the next few minutes
playing Candy Crush doing something really important. After failing level 87 AGAIN five minutes, I return to the mirror where I notice with slight alarm that several strands of hair have escaped from my ponytail and comfortably nestled themselves into the vast sea of Hair Removal Creme on my face.
I hastily brush the fly-aways off my face, inadvertently pushing them into other innocent hairs. I keep my cool and try to rescue the rogue hairs, to no avail. As I attempt to carefully remove the Hair Removal Creme from my hair without removing the hair (my brain just exploded), the hair basically melts in my hand. It’s like a science experiment in here, people. Truth be told, it’s probably seven strands of hair. BUT THEY MELT IN MY HAND.
AND I HAVE THIS STUFF ON HALF MY FACE.
AND I DIDN’T DO A TEST PATCH.
Warily, I moisten a cotton ball, per the instructions (NOW THEY HAVE MY ATTENTION) and gently remove the Creme from my face. My anxiety morphs to glee as I see IT WORKED OMG MY STACHE IS GONE! AND SO IS THE BEARD I KIND OF HAD!
With no trace of facial hair, I am left with bright red skin and a slight burning feeling. No biggie.
Twenty-four hours later, the redness and burning are gone. The hair is also still gone. I also have yet to break out. Despite being down seven strands of hair from my head, I’m counting this as a huge win.
Should you embark on this journey yourself, might I recommend actually doing a test patch? (Oh, you know, since we’re dealing with THE FACE?) And, lest you suffer a worse fate than I, please secure all stray hairs! Pretty sure I dodged a huge bullet on that one.
Follow up posts are sure to (but will hopefully NOT) include: “I Broke Out Anyway,” “I Grew Back a Beard Fit For a Lumberjack,” and, “Now My ‘Stache Looks Like My Dad’s.”
Also, TBT! Hey Dad! I really do love your mustache! I just don’t want one! Love you, mean it!