There are gifts you love and then there are those gifts that are like the wool sweater your Great-Aunt Ethel knits you for Christmas, the one that is three sizes too small and could win an ugly sweater contest even if there were 1,000 other entries. I call them "yard sale" gifts because you know that as soon as you have another yard sale, that's where this gift is going.
Then there are gifts that even though you need it, you really don't want it. For example, giving me a year's membership to a gym would be pointless. Why? Because unless you gave me a hypnotist to go with it and the hypnotist came to my house, hypnotized me and made me exercise while under hypnosis, it ain't going to happen.
For the first time in my life someone gave me a gift that scared me, really scared me. It wasn't a Halloween mask or a ticking bomb.
It was a magnifying mirror.
If you are young you are probably wondering why this is frightening. If you are over 50, you know what I am talking about. My cousin gave it to me because while she was visiting me she noticed I didn't have one.
"You need one so you can see to put your makeup on," she said when I called to thank her. She's right. I can't see to put eyeliner on and it ends up all over my eyelid. I once squeezed an age spot because I thought it was a pimple. When it didn't pop I realized my mistake.
Maybe I did need a magnifying mirror but I sure didn't want one. I set it on my bathroom counter and went on with my daily routine. Most days I just yank my hair back in a pony tail, splash water on my face, rub on some moisturizer and I'm out the door. Later that week when I finally decided to put on makeup I looked at the mirror and raised an eyebrow. Was I woman enough to try it?
I leaned closer, and closer, until ... Yikes! Who was that freckle-faced woman with bags under her eyes and huge pores? Yuck! I knew there was a reason I hadn't bought one of these mirrors. I picked it up to take it to the yard sale box and that's when I saw them. Long, black, prickly nose hairs sticking out of her, I mean my nose! Holy smokes, where did they come from? How long had they been growing? Why hadn't someone told me to get the weed eater out and work on those suckers?
I don't like to swear. I am a church going southern lady and a grandmother, so I keep my vocabulary clean but I have to admit that seeing myself with an old man's nose hairs made the colorful words from my college days flash across the screen of my mind. I mean, nose hairs, seriously? Somewhere there has to be a Father Time who is laughing his head off about the fact that I've been walking around with a porcupine up my nostrils. Sheesh!
I put the mirror in the yard sale box and then took it back out. If I have to trim these suckers I'm going to need to be able to see them.
I went back to the bathroom with the evil mirror and looked around for something to attack the the hairs. Tweezer? Nah, that made my eyes water just thinking about it. My husband's mustache scissors? Now that might work. I got as close to the mirror as I possibly could and snipped. I clipped the end of my nose and a drop of blood appeared. I had cut my nose off to spite my face!
I put a bandage on my nose and threw the scissors back in the drawer. When my husband got home from work he would have to do it. In the meantime my nose hairs could keep growing.
Hi Honey, I'm Home
"You want me to do what?" he said.
"Trim my nose hairs," I answered.
"I don't think so," he said. "You've already cut yourself and I can't see any better than you can. Go to a salon or spa or something and get it done."
"Are you crazy?" I said. "I don't want them knowing I have nose hair! Wait a minute, if I have nose hair and you are older than I am, I bet you do too!"
"Do not," he said and covered his nose with his hands.
"Let me see," I said and tried to pry his hands off his face.
"You are not messing with my nose hairs! If they are there that's where they are staying!"
And he left.
So now I have a wounded nose with porcupine hairs growing out of it and a big mirror so I can see it all better.
I called my cousin to tell her about my dilemma and after she stopped laughing she told me to look online for a little device that is made especially to trim nose hair. I ordered one for me and one for my husband. Now we will have something to do this weekend after we go grocery shopping. We can come home and trim our nose hairs together.
Oh the joys of growing older!