Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves, for they will never cease to be amused

Recently someone I know was applying makeup (my husband calls it "war paint") while looking into a magnifying mirror (very bad idea) when something on my chin (okay, fine, this is all about me) caught my attention.

Upon closer inspection (actually a panic-filled probe) I discovered a hair. There was a hair protruding proudly from my chin! This hair wasn't just lying there as hair on a woman's chin should; rather it was standing alert and proud, waving wildly back at me. And to make matters worse (if that's possible) the hair was gray! What? I'm getting so old that I couldn't even muster a dark-colored hair on my chin?

How is this possible? I only recently celebrated my "milestone" birthday. Should this sort of thing be happening already? And for that matter, what's next? Will I be searching for my spectacles soon? Am I doomed for the little blue-tinted hair color aisle at the grocery store? Will I be trading in my beloved treadmill for a walker long before I'm ready?

I plucked that ugly, wretched whisker with my best tweezers, hoping I pulled it from the deepest follicle. Now I need to decide, should I continue using that magnifying mirror so I can snatch any future (gasp!) beastly chin bristles? Or should I pretend to ignore any more troublesome tufts?

So as I ponder this earth-shattering decision, I will grab my magnifying mirror and do a quick body search since really, who knows where else I might be sprouting these hag-like, errant gray hairs from next? I will pioneer my own plucking frenzy since I don't need anyone pointing them out to me because, frankly, I'm horrified enough.