One of the less good bits of middle age is getting hairier. I used to have three hairs on my chin which needed pulling out. Now there’s something like twenty. I’m not sure exactly how many because I never let them all grow at once.
My eyebrows used to grow in a perfect arch all by themselves and never needed plucking. Now it takes a bit of effort to keep them neat.
And the legs – yes well, the legs.
Yesterday I went shopping for a window blind to go on the window next to the computer. (I tend to roast sitting here on summer evenings.) The girl who served me looked to be in her early twenties, and she was wearing a gypsy headscarf with no visible hair. Her eyebrows were beautifully drawn on with eyebrow pencil. I didn’t notice any eyelashes.
My first thought was chemotherapy, but I doubt it because she looked in the bloom of health otherwise. I think she just has alopecia, where your hair falls out due to an auto-immune response.
I hope I’ll be bitching less about my chin hairs in future.
