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.