Today my darling six-year-old daughter Sasha informed me that I have a girlstache.
Avid Formerly Hot readers (and there are, like, 11 of you) know that this is not the first time one of my daughters has pointed out one of my relatively new physical flaws that I would have prefer remained unremarked upon. I don’t even write about all of these affronts because there are too many, plus my daughters think perfectly normal things like pubic hair is horrifying and remark on those as well. Just a few of note: the pores with tiny hairs inexplicably growing out of them, and of course, the full frontal tushie.
Girlstache, I didn’t need, although I had to laugh, which I know sent the wrong message. There are so many things wrong with that statement that don’t know where to begin.
1. How does a six-year-old learn such a word? I have had a girlstache for over 35 years and have never heard it.
2. I have spent untold sums in the last 35 years on bleaches, waxes, electrolysis and laser treatments to eradicate said girlstache, and I thought I’d done it, long before Sasha was born. Apparently it’s baaack.
3. She’s strawberry blond. If she ever has a girlstache, no one will notice it, so I can’t even tell her that girlstaches are in the grand tradition of the Semitic people, a group from which she should be proud to derive. She looks like a little Irish riverdancer, and I have no idea why. Besides, not for nothing, even if you’re proud to be a dark and sensuous Mediterranean goddess, you’re not exactly flaunting your girlstache.
The thing is, in the process of carrying that child for nine months, my body developed stretch marks, strange pigmentation, leaky bladder issues, and a whole host of other common postpartum dings and dents. I’ve never questioned for a second whether it was worth it–my daughters are the light of my life. But you’d think the least they could do is keep their adorable little unlined, pore-free, hairless faces shut about my makeup-free visage!
You must excuse me. I have some emergency bleaching to do, which should tide me over until someone can aim a laser at my lower lip and eradicate my girlstache, at least until the next follicular growth cycle.
Photo by Art Institute of Portland CC
July 18, 2009 at 10:45 pm
My middle daughter has a girlstash, as do I.
I have never touched my girlstash because, even though it is quite noticeable (especially in the winter when I am paler), I believe that messing with the fine skin around that area will eventually produce those old lady, 3 pack-a-day, lipstick-trap creases.
When my daughters mentioned that I had a moustache for the first time (they left out the ‘girl’ part) and subsequently that one of them had one as well I informed that I liked my ‘stache and that some very cool women had ‘staches! I then introduced them to the image of Frieda Khalo…this, of course, sent them into fits of laughter.
The truth is that my moustache never truly tormented me. I guess when you are a twelve year old with a ‘D’ cup bra you don’t spend that much time worrying about your lip, and no one spends that much time looking at it.
I also believe I was, and still am, rebelling against EVERY beauty ‘technician’ I have ever come across, who after any procedure I had endured, be it bikini wax or hair blow-out, graciously asked me if I would like to do my moustache as well. “NO Thank you!!”
July 19, 2009 at 12:21 pm
It’s even worse when a boyfriend points it out after having spent endless time and money on hiding or removing it.
July 23, 2009 at 8:54 pm
Oh, your strawberry blonde will have a glowing girlstache when her skin gets tan in summertime. She will be looking in the mirror, and suddenly she will leap back in horror at the sight of little blond hairs over her top lip. She can’t bleach them, of course, because their very paleness is the problem. So what does she do–darken them? Wax them?
Christina, sporting her blonde summer ‘stache this season.