Humor

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Womanhood and whiskers:

As I step more firmly into my 30’s I am in this strange place that I less than fondly think of as ‘The Crossroads.’ I’m no longer the carefree yet foresight-challenged girl of twenty I once was; and I’ve not yet attained the more confident, wisdom-oriented status of the over forty sect. Now- if that was all there was to it, I could accept that. However, my body seems intent on reminding me of the limbo I’m in on a daily basis. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that in one day of grooming I would sample everything from Clearasil to anti-aging eye crème, and then for dessert tuck myself into a pair of control top pantyhose. How much can one woman take?

The first sign of my body’s dual plight was feeling a blemish developing on my chin, which in itself was sadly, not that unusual. I went to the mirror to assess the damage and discovered a whisker –yes, I said whisker- a mere shouting distance from the blemish. Kind of like tandem riders on the landscape of hormonal bliss. Or rather, the death squad of hormonal miss as the case may be. If this had happened after menopause I would have been prepared, but to be young at the time was almost too much. Ever since that dreadful day I have discovered mocking hairs here and there with no rhyme or reason to their placement other than being hidden in places where I, being genetically female should in all fairness, not have hair. With each year that passes I am privy to the mounting and insidious combination of breakouts, the beginnings of crows feet, and what is distressingly beginning to look like male pattern baldness with an irritating waste not want not redistribution center on my chin.

When you combine the skin issues with the equally alarming issues of clothing, the big picture is enough to throw the most grounded woman into a tailspin. Somehow, in my early thirties, I’ve shucked off my once innate fashion sense for the more pressing goal of comfort. It’s as if I blinked and gone were the cute matching panty sets and in their stead were sensible cotton briefs and industrial strength bras. My feet are now shod in obviously comfortable shoes and my sweaters reminiscent of the boldly patterned ones usually seen in retirement homes. I’ve developed this strange fondness for jeans with Lycra and actually own a girdle, but I only wear it for very special occasions, as the effort needed to shove myself into it requires no less than two hours of IV rehydration, and an inhaler.

Thankfully God cares more about what’s on the inside, and the things on the outside are variable. In 1 Samuel we’re told that man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. As long as my journey’s focus is learning the heart of God, everything else will fall into its perfectly designed place. Ecclesiastes reminds me that He has made everything beautiful in its time! And in the meantime there’s nothing wrong with packing a little bag of necessities for the journey. My motto: “Have tweezers, will travel.”

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