Some days things just kind of hit me hard. More often than not the thing that I confront is something that I don’t want to admit. Often it seems like the thing that is made apparent to me is due to that dreaded word – aging.

I was sitting innocently having a conversation with someone the other day. As we were talking I found myself stroking my face – specifically my chin area. Now why I was doing that I haven’t a clue. Maybe I was trying to appear intelligent. Perhaps I was pondering something the friend had said. Who knows? All I know is that while I was listening I also discovered something.

Yep.

That dreaded rogue chin hair.

It was long.

I suspect it was dark in color and as I tried to inconspicuously yank it from its stronghold on my chin I did not miss a beat in my conversation and I don’t think the other person even knew what I was doing as I plucked it and casually dropped it on the ground.

Ah – the dreaded chin hairs that seem to pop up overnight and grace the faces of many a woman over 50. Embarrassing? Yes.

Fact of Life? Sadly also yes.

So today I own it. I have the occasional chin hair and while I don’t make a practice of publicizing my faults and weaknesses – here I am – admitting to the world ( or the 5 readers who will read this) that I have officially reached the age of chin hairs.

Growing older gracefully – one chin hair at a time.