I have had a few long days and so I treated myself to a facial today. Ahhh. Bliss.
My brain got to relax, stop lifting weights, untwist. I found that it went to unexpected places when it was finally set free.
In the midst of a refreshing, orange-peel scented exfoliation, my mind started to riffle through the people I'd met this week, including hairy men. And I found myself suddenly grateful that I do not have facial hair.
How much harder would it be to achieve a dewy glow (which I can't say I've yet accomplished) if you had to worry about a five o'clock shadow. Ugh. I mean, I suppose with all the leg-shaving we ladies got the short end of the razor anyhow. But it would be worse, I imagine, if the spots you miss, like your kneecaps, were on your face. Or if you put your chin on your hand and got scratched.
So, thank you, God, for a fuzz free face.