Hey, Mom, What’s That on Your Chin?

One day when I was 51, my teen turned to me with a smile and said, “You have a hair on your chin.”

I flicked at my chin nonchalantly. I say “nonchalantly” because I assumed my kid had noticed an errant hair that had fallen from my head. But when I realized the hair was actually growing out of my chin, I went full-on chalant.

“How can this be?” I yelled, frantically yanking at the whisker while my teenager bent over laughing.

My mind traveled back to a moment when, as a teen myself, I had spotted a little whisker on my grandmother’s chin. Back then, I found it funny because it was so unexpected—and I assumed it was something that could never happen to me. I thought a hair on the chin of a woman was a sign that the woman was very, very old.

I now realize that at the time my grandmother was probably around the age that I am now. Did she know she had a whisker? No idea. I never mentioned it to her. You weren’t supposed to talk about such things with your elders.

I like to think that my grandmother knew about the whisker and had made her peace with it, as a natural part of aging. I could admire that. But you know what else I admire? My forthright child—and my kick-ass new tweezers.

AARP essays share a point of view in the author’s voice, drawn from expertise or experience, and do not necessarily reflect the views of AARP.