Fuckin’ Keratin
Because of my kind of nose, most people can see the little hairs in it. Or, that’s my impression.
To rid yourself of these filamentous undesirables, The Sharper Image offers a special kind of trimmer — spark plug shaped — for just such a task.
Mine, purchased ten years ago, is the first version of this trimmer. And it only works so well. There are newer, somehow better models. But the purchase of the first one was embarrassing enough. Although, there’s always the possible on-line purchase. Then again, you’ve got to wonder whether the latest model is a true improvement on the original. (The hard way, I found out that Windows XP isn’t exactly an improvement on Windows 98.)
So, when the trimmer currently in my possession doesn’t do the job, there’s my baby Swiss Army knife’s scissors. When that doesn’t work, the next hour’ll be spent in front of the mirror, two fingers pinching up my nose, yanking the little fuckers out. Sometimes, this is with the aid of tweezers.
The most painful to pluck out are at the base of my nostrils' openings. Ripping these out? Brings tears to my eyes. And I’m not a crying sort of guy — it’s the only exercise I failed in Patrick O’Gara’s Basic Acting class.
Why do I do it?
It’s a proven fact that women avoid men with too much exposed nose hair, let alone back hair. I’ve got that too. And how I rid myself of it, is not a story I intend to share with you.
To rid yourself of these filamentous undesirables, The Sharper Image offers a special kind of trimmer — spark plug shaped — for just such a task.
Mine, purchased ten years ago, is the first version of this trimmer. And it only works so well. There are newer, somehow better models. But the purchase of the first one was embarrassing enough. Although, there’s always the possible on-line purchase. Then again, you’ve got to wonder whether the latest model is a true improvement on the original. (The hard way, I found out that Windows XP isn’t exactly an improvement on Windows 98.)
So, when the trimmer currently in my possession doesn’t do the job, there’s my baby Swiss Army knife’s scissors. When that doesn’t work, the next hour’ll be spent in front of the mirror, two fingers pinching up my nose, yanking the little fuckers out. Sometimes, this is with the aid of tweezers.
The most painful to pluck out are at the base of my nostrils' openings. Ripping these out? Brings tears to my eyes. And I’m not a crying sort of guy — it’s the only exercise I failed in Patrick O’Gara’s Basic Acting class.
Why do I do it?
It’s a proven fact that women avoid men with too much exposed nose hair, let alone back hair. I’ve got that too. And how I rid myself of it, is not a story I intend to share with you.