WARNING:  Today’s post contains subject matter that some readers may find disturbing.  If you are faint of heart, mind, body, spirit or soul, now is your chance to click away.  Consider yourself warned.

GOOD NEWS FOR PEOPLE WHO LOVE BAD NEWS

Scribblin’ Friends: Today’s subject can no longer be ignored, denied, swept under the table, or pretended away.  It is one of the harsh and embarrassing realities of life that, at some point, every woman must face. (ha!  face – get it?!) There’s no easy way to say it, so I’m just gonna close my eyes and type:

The Misstache.

The Misstache is, quite simply –  a lady mustache, and if you’re a woman, there’s no escaping it.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re fat, skinny, young, old, red-headed or brunette . . . sooner or later, she will find you.  When it comes to the Misstache, the question is not IF, but WHEN she will reveal herself.  For some, it’s in their 40′s or 50′s, but for others – well, they aren’t so lucky.

Take me for instance, I have short, thick hair.  I know a great head of hair is a wonderful thing, but hair up there also means that there’s hair everywhere – including your lip! I’ve been waxing, trimming, cutting and plucking my lip hair since I was 13 years old (check out the post A Hairy Discovery).

Recently, Michelle was delivered a “Misstache jack slap of reality.” The photo was supposed to feature her goofy goggles, but it revealed much, much more:

We knew right then and there that something had to be done.  We heated up the waxer.  Yes – I own a waxer!  Remember . . . I’ve been waging war against my Misstache for over 30 years now!  (The GiGi is my favorite brand.)

It was finally time to unleash the fury on the Misstache: