The other day, Boyfriend and I were in line for churros when he inspected my right cheek and said, “You have a weird hair.” Imagine you’re a girl with insecurities, doubts, fears, and the conviction that you’re terrible at being a girl because you only shave, like, once every two weeks and every morning you forget that brushing hair is something you have to do. Okay, now picture that you just heard from your boyfriend, the one who’s supposed to be physically attracted to you and all that crap, “There is something weird growing out of your face”. I think we can all agree that you immediately want to die. You want to crawl into a hole and never, ever, ever see the sun again. But, there were no holes to crawl into and die in at the churro stand, so I was left to awkwardly avoid Boyfriend (which was difficult since we drove there together) while trying to make sure he was always on my left.
As soon as I got to a mirror, I searched for the hair. Sure enough, there it was, long, black, and growing out of the side of my face like goddamn pioneer. It looked like a freaking pube was protruding from face. It was on one of those spots on your body that you would never think to look at unless someone pointed it out to you. I started thinking about all the things this hair had witnessed while I was living my life stupidly thinking there were no weird hairs growing out of my face. It was long (like an inch? Inch and a half?) which meant it’d been there for a while. Oh god, this hair was there on all my first dates, accompanying us to the restaurant like an eager third wheel. It was there when I got my hair cut, glaring my hairdresser in the eyes as she shampooed me. It’s been there for every class, every game of Settlers of Catan, every dry hump on a stranger’s couch (I have actually never dry humped on a stranger’s couch. I just wanted to make my life sound more exciting). How many times had I assumed people were listening to me talk when in fact they were just staring at this hair and wondering why I had no hygiene? How many times?! My life flashed before my eyes as I stared into the black soul of the hair on the side of my face. As I pulled out the tweezers, it stood strong, accepting its fate nobly. Then I plucked it and it went to hair heaven. Now I’m paranoid there are weird hairs growing elsewhere on my body in all the nooks and crannies too difficult for me to find. I need a best girl friend. Or a hand mirror. Either will work.