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I was about thirty five and a half when I noticed my first nose hairs. They poked out at me early one morning when I was brushing my teeth. At first I thought there were a couple of wolf spiders nesting in my nostrils.

I didn't know which was worse; spiders or nose hairs, but after I recovered from the shock and realization, I voted for the latter. My wife never told me about the nose hair, I guess she wanted to let me discover them alone.

I could picture myself kissing my poor wife and the soft little hairs tickling her nose like the tip of a water color paintbrush. My only hope was that she still loved me and could over look them, or rather, past them.

Within a week of my horrific nose hair discovery, I made my quarterly trip to my local hairdresser. After the sprits, the snips and the final cut, the young lady proceeded to venture further on a quest for hair growing in unusual and unkempt places. She pulled out what appeared to be an apparatus only to be used by sheep farmers and ran it's vibrating metal assembly across the back of my neck.

Not satisfied with her job, she crossed over the boundary of my pride and plucked at the hairs in my ears. "Nose hair!"... I thought.... "Ear hair!" The two seemed to go together fairly well and I then realized that thirty five and a half, must be the perfect age for dormant hair follicles to erupt and bloom upon my aging body.

When the hairdresser was finishing up, she asked me if everything was to my satisfaction. I gave her shapely body a once over and looked into her eyes, "Do you do nose hairs?" I asked casually and without forethought.

The young Hair Cuttery employee looked at me as if I had asked her out on a date, only it was not as bad. A date proposal would have been too personal and line crossing. A nose hair snipping required a yes or a no answer, without repercussions.

I couldn't help but fail to see the difference between a nose and an ear. I mean, they are both orifices, both containing ungodly and unthinkable human residue. However, I learned that a hairdresser drew the line somewhere and that line was at the base of the back of my neck.

As the years flew by and my nose hairs grew thicker, they slowly grew less noticeable to me. It was sort of like losing ones' youth and gaining a friend, slowly, and at the same time. Youth departs with memories and things you can't do as well anymore and nose hair sprouts like fall flowers in a window box, perched upon your highest window ledge.

Learn more about this author, Jon Coe.
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