Okay. Here it is. The embarrassing thing that breaks the ice for the more embarrassing thing.
You know that moment before the BIG moment and the breathing is all "haw, haw, haw, ha, ah, ah" and next should come the "AHAHA!" I have this terrible tendency to hold my breath, right at that second. That, in itself, is not the embarrassing part.
No, the embarrassing part is that, then, in attempting to do two things at once right after this brief pause–catch my breath at the same time I need to let out a big "AHHAAHAA!"–I sometimes choke. And not in a cute, "wow, you’re so great I almost died" way, but in this way that I end up making this noise like if a zombie goose and a hissing cat had a pissed off baby.
So, imagine, if you will. I’m laying beneath you. I’ve got my legs wrapped around your back. I’m holding onto the headboard for dear life. "Oh, god, yes. ha, yes, ah, yes, god, yes, ah, ah, yes, ah… *glacpcklraaprlch*"
There is no graceful way to recover from that. None. I would be better off to just spontaneously burst into Bible verses right at that moment or to suddenly turn into Tucker Carlson.
It doesn’t happen all the time, but enough. My only hope is to find a partner who finds the occasional sound of zombie geese to be amusing.
Okay, so here’s the thing that has me mortified.
I have this occasional chin whisker. Which is bad enough. I’m constantly on chin whisker vigilance and the moment I can feel it, I pluck it out. Who wants a big black whisker growing from her chin? If there were thousands, I could get some side show work, but just one?
Anyway, all week, I’ve felt the chin whisker, but I couldn’t see it to pluck it out. And it was driving me crazy. Finally, this morning, I could feel that it was pretty long. So, I’m searching in the mirror and I don’t see anything at all, but by now I’ve had it. I have to see folks today and I can’t be going out in public with a great big long black chin hair.
So, I got a hold of it with the tweezers and yanked it out.
And, dear reader, do you know why I couldn’t see it?
Because it was gray.
I shit you not. I’m not even thirty-two yet and not only do I have a chin whisker, it’s gray.
I swear to god, I’ve long suspected that I’m slowly turning into a sasquatch, but between the chin hair and the mating call of doom, I’m not going to fight it any more. I’m just going to give over to my inherent sasquatchian nature and run around naked in the hills of Tennessee and slowly give way to some rural legend.