As I was sitting here sipping my hot chocolate, willing myself to do some work, I remembered a traumatising event in my life that changed me as a person. Many moons ago, I used to get my moustache waxed on a regular basis. It was all the rage back then. I never had a problem with the whole waxing process, a bit sore, but you half expect that. What I didn't expect is to have my moles plucked without my permission.
While I was getting the ol' moustache waxed, the nice lady kindly asked me if I would like my my monobrow tamed. I don't usually get it done but I said,
'Go then shure, just sort out the middle bit so it doesn't look like a caterpillar on my face'. That was all fine and dandy but next thing I know, she's viciously ripping out my 3 mole hairs. By the time I realised what was happening the damage had been done.
I was freaking out. I couldn't believe she had done that. I'm not usually one for the melodrama so I tried to contain myself as best I could. I paid her minus the usual tipp and ran home to scream into my pillow for an hour. I tried to console myself with the fact that my mole hair would eventually grow back.
To this day, I still have no mole hair. The 3 big black hairs never appeared again.
My mole could be mistaken for a large freckle these days. 3 hairs ripped from my mole, 3 hairs that never returned.
