I'm just gonna throw down here so buckle up. If mom knew I was blabbing this in public, she'd kill me with her bare hands but since she can't, I need to go ahead and just admit how low I have sunk. I woke up the other morning with this as the only viable solution I could come up with for a rather delicate topic. Old lady whiskers. Before when mom went over to the big Edge salon, they would wax her lip and chin for me. One of her main sticklers for me has always been for me to keep the whiskers at bay. I'm serious. You know how awwwwful older ladies look when they have white whiskers....it's just not a "grandmothery or even mothery" kind of look. It says loose, floppy, old lady house dresses, no teeth, and gumming your gums. Oh, HELL NO. The problem is, since she no longer goes to the big Salon, the lady who does her hair--Lana-- won't wax mom, or anybody else over there. She's too afraid she'd hurt her and frankly, since her skin tears as easily as a wet paper towel, she's right. But, we still have whiskers. Plucking is really not an option either, since it takes to long, hurts like the devil, and I'm just NOT doing it. Period.
So today I did the unmentionable. I took a little Bic disposable razor over there and shaved all the whiskers off her chin. I told her she had 'um, she'd hate 'um, and to sit perfectly still, and she did. Off came the little orangey blade cover, and away I went. The funniest part is, someone over there had beaten me to it. I could tell because they were shorter than the last time I'd seen her. I called my sister to tell her mom had just had a "whisker intervention", and her message back was not just AMEN, but Oh, My God, who's gonna take care of ours??