“Mid-life is when the growth of hair on our legs slows down. This gives us plenty of time to care for our newly acquired mustache.” ~Unknown
Introducing, from the silent film era, Charlie Chaplin, aka “The Tramp.” Skip the tramp label, but with my midlife upper lip fuzz, I could be Charlene Chaplin. Considering his heavy eyeliner, my mirror and society would say “tramp.” Brows are questionable, but I have seen worse in the reality of life . . . Wal Mart excursions.
A midlife Murphy’s Law — out of “beauty” wax — the Sally Hansen lip zip for amateurs. Dark Shadows — starring my upper lip. Browsing the shelves at Target, there were numerous products promising to make my lip as smooth as a baby’s behind, but I was skeptical. Sally was tried and true.
Encountering two sisters in the lady’s hair removal aisle — yes, they have shelves of products — we had an animated discussion on lip hair/lip fare. Finally, they shared Sally Hansen had the best product in their experience. So… a scavenger hunt for Sally Hansen Wax for hair removal. Finally, the last box on a bottom shelf. We parted on giggles.
I have used this product for years. Sticking the container in the microwave, I nuked it at the recommended time and setting — still as hard as when I put it in. I nuked it a second time with the same results. On a time restraint, I raised the setting and gave it a third nuke. Still hard.
My Sally Hansen kit came with tiny tweezers (no magnifying glass), an application spatula, and a poke-your-eye-out toothpick to part eyebrows if brave enough to wax those. I picked up the assault toothpick to poke through the wax surface. While the surface was still as firm as ice on a frozen river, an undercurrent of hot runny wax splashed out at the poke and landed on my hand.
Cold water set up the molten drops; now for peeling them off. Pain must have triggered a dementia-type mindset. I mentally regressed back to pulling colored drops of candy glued to paper as a child. Pain shocked me back to the present, pulling the wax drops off my hand and scraping the splatter off of the vanity. Skin remained intact, but I redefined “exfoliation” with that maneuver.
Stirring and slowly nuking the wax to the desired temperature and consistency, I iced my lip with the spatula and lip-zipped my upper lip-line. Smooth and baby-soft, my kisser was no longer a lip-tickling threat.
Scrutinizing my eyebrows, waxing was not an option nor the teeny tweezers. I selected my old faithful anglers from the medicine cabinet and began the pluck/plucking. There should be a warning on the Sally Hansen box…. “Do not sell to minors or anyone over the age of 50!”
I will continue doing my strip-tweeze. If my few straggling chin hairs ever overpower my tweezers, desperation might consider a cutting-edge change — but there is the concern of slitting my own throat?
I am a middle-aged, disabled diva and loving life!