I found a black hair growing out of my chest after a shower today. It was just a wisp of a thing. Downy soft but so dark it stood out against my pasty January skin like a vegan at a salami festival.
My initial thought was, “ugh, not again.” While it is the season for letting hair explore new frontiers, I have no interest in managing another crop. My second thought was more pensive.
What would my mother say?
I never intend to tell my mom about such personal things. I know she’ll show interest in anything I bring up, because of all that time I spent in her womb, but she’s a busy woman and my self-indulgent stories can drag at the best of times. Yet somehow things like what is growing out of my chest inevitably come up in conversation, especially if she’s plied me with a so-called “quick drink and hello after work.”
But it’s worth bringing up the little things with mom. She’s always got something to say to put life’s little annoyances into perspective.
So I thought about what mom might say, were I to tell her about my follicular visitor. Imagined responses include:
“Was it grey? No? Nothing to worry about.”
“That’s just your Italian side showing.”
“Tell me about it when it’s two inches long and growing out of the side of your neck on your first date with the first guy who answered your phone dating ad.”
I wondered what she would actually say. I asked. I was not disappointed:
It’s almost like she’s done this before: