A Certain Age

I am a woman of uncertain age. I am too old to want to tell my age, and not old enough to be proud of how long I’ve lived. My grandmother (Nanny) was 16 when I was born and for many years after. Then she magically became 29. She remained 29 for another 20+ years until she admitted to being 85. So let’s just say I’m 16 in Nanny years.

Apparently, this also means that I must experience teenaged-worthy zit eruptions. Recently, one new zit appeared on just my nose every day for a week. On the eighth day three appeared. I swear the third one arose while I was looking at the others, just to spite me. I’d never seen one appear before. They usually just sneak up when I’m not looking.

Please don’t tell me it’s a change in diet or exercise or my menstrual cycle or the full moon or whatever. None of that applies.

But the zits aren’t the worst of it. For the past several years, dark hairs have been taking over my face, poking out in more and more places. Sometimes the hairs look blond, reach a certain length, and then bang!—they become dark overnight. Or they only look dark in certain light, which makes me wonder if I have a full moustache/beard in some light. Tweezers are now my most important beauty(?) tool.

On the bright side, as we age we can’t see these small things as well, but the youngsters (those younger than 16) still can. I remember a woman I used to see downtown when I was in my (actual) 20s. She had a serious, curly moustache, and I used to wonder why she didn’t do something about it or if she truly didn’t care. I mean, she would have had to be blind to miss it, and even if she were (which she wasn’t), she would have been able to feel it.

No one talks about this. I’m sure my mother never said a word, but then she’s a blonde. Do blondes have this manly hair issue? On the bright side, some of mine are now turning gray.

I don’t like talking about it. Now that I have, though, I’m afraid that whenever I see someone, they will be scrutinizing my face for zits and random hairs. The reality is, though, that most of us are much more concerned with our own appearance than with others’ appearances. Most of the time I can’t remember what my friends wore the last time I saw them, and that’s a lot more obvious than these issues.

Psalm 139 says that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I get the fearfully part. (See above. Yeah, I know that’s not what it means.) I understand the wonder—so many functions, chemical reactions, pieces moving together. That the body works at all is a miracle.

But someday in heaven, after I’ve asked God much more important questions, I might have to ask about these trivial things. I know He’s much more concerned with our hearts than how we look, but scripture says He knows the number of hairs on our head. And our faces are part of our heads. So why? To keep us humble? Maybe. To make us focus on our appearance? I doubt it. To let us know we’re getting old? I don’t know—I guess I’ll have to ask.

For now, have tweezers, will travel.