When Leg Hair Takes on a Life of its Own

There I was, sitting on a stool at a friend’s, chatting before our beach walk. First time wearing shorts for the year. Yea, it’s been darned cold in Maine.

I had brushed my hand against my leg when I felt a tickle. It felt like a hair. Funny thing was that I couldn’t brush it off. Then I noticed that there was another one. Couldn’t brush that one off either.

What?! Are those two hairs really attached to the back of my leg?!

Are you freakin’ kidding me?

How can they be there? And, how could they be that friggin’ long? I shave my legs! I shaved them all winter. And, I shaved them all spring, which it technically still is. I do have a girlfriend, you know.

So, I’m trying to be nonchalant and figure out how to deal with those ungodly stragglers while balancing on a bar stool.

Okay, this might be a slight exaggeration of how big those suckers were, but they felt this big.

Nodding pleasantly during the conversation. Not really paying attention, I’m transfixed. Tattooed on the thought of my new appendages. How noticeable are they? Are they dark and thick? Would my friend notice them on our walk? My shorts are on the longer side, but not long enough. Anyone walking in the vicinity would probably see them. I think that anyone using Google Earth at that moment would be able to see them on me.

Again…how did I miss shaving them? They are like their own entities. Do I say something because I must look so uncomfortable and distracted? Do I discuss my sudden desire to braid and bead my leg hair? Maybe turn them into a dreadlock? No, he’s a guy.

“Just let it go, B. Let it go,” I said to myself.

Then I twisted the hairs around my finger and pulled them out. Vowing to never, ever let it happen again.

Have you ever run into a similar situation? How did you handle it? Please share below!

@Ybbeige

http://facebook.com/barbarabeige

It’s a good chick beach read…

And the Gallinippers Fly

5-11 Sexy Boi-Sexy Twang describes having a large insect in Illinois. Here, we call them crane flies. There, they call them gallinippers. I think that is a rather fun word to describe this harmless creature (though the word is also used to describe a vicious large mosquito out Michigan way). So, I came up with this little poem where I can say gallinipper lots.

Almost 2-1/2 inches long, these critters can seem quite daunting.

Spring ponds warm
And the gallinippers fly.

Adrift on the wind
And the gallinippers fly.

Pulled by currents
And the gallinippers fly.

Only days to live
And the gallinippers fly.

Thoughts of mating
And the gallinippers fly.

The gallinippers fly
The gallinippers fly.





@Ybbeige
www.barbarabeige.com
http://facebook.com/barbarabeige

A Spring Haiku

@Ybbeige

http://facebook.com/barbarabeige

www.barbarabeige.com

In Our Own Little Worlds

Life is so different for all of us. We tend to get caught up in our own little worlds and we don’t know what is happening to all those around us. Well, in a general sense, yes. But, on a more micro-scale, no.

As I drove to work today, I had my new (to me) Katie Herzig Apple Tree album cranking in the car. My windows were down. Temperatures were in the low 70s. I got a solid night’s sleep. All was good in my world.

I looked around at other drivers. I didn’t really see anyone looking as happy as I was (it was before 8 a.m….) I saw a lot of sleep- or caffeine- deprived people with blank stares. One man in a pickup truck took the longest, deepest drag from his cigarette that I had ever seen outside of the movies. As if it was his last ever. His eyes were looking off to the side, but not looking at anything physically around him. He had some serious thoughts going on in his head. But, of what?

Do we really want or need to know what everyone else is doing or thinking or going through? Sometimes, I find it fascinating to watch people. To create a life’s scenario for them in my own head. Can we really imagine what any particular person is going through at that very moment?

My mind goes to one person, one family, who is experiencing something I never would have imagined for them. My cousin’s son was brought to the hospital last week. Thirteen years old. Having a non-stop tic storm from his recent (only a few years) diagnosis of Tourette Syndrome.

I was going about my weekend. Happy as a clam. Yard saling. Finding my new bike. My cousin sat in the hospital 600 miles away with her son in intensive care. I soaked up the sun on a 17-mile bike ride and then at the beach where I went on my first swim of the season in the ocean that was at a balmy Maine 60 degrees and then I went to a neighbor’s for a cookout. My cousin’s son had a brain bleed. I snuggled into my bed with my newest book to read, Illusions by Richard Bach. My cousin’s son was being taken off the ventilator. I went to work with my tunes cranking. My cousin’s son had five brain bleeds and she was told he probably had a mini stroke. I’m feeling warmth, energy, vitality, love. My cousin is feeling pain, sadness, anxiety, anguish, worry. I’m getting ready for bed in the quiet comfort of my home as I write this. She’s worried sick about the outcome of her son, one of a set of twins. Spending countless hours in the hospital.

Every day, we are all truly on different journeys at the same time. I think it would help to be more compassionate and empathetic towards others and realize that not every journey or day is an easy one. When someone does something that ticks you off in traffic or perhaps they aren’t as friendly at work or in the store checkout line like you think they ought to be, think that maybe all isn’t right in their world. Maybe give them a smile and send good energy their way. And, in that moment, give thanks and appreciate all the good things that you have in yours.