March 2026 SOLC–Day 14
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I stepped toward the bathroom sink to wash my hands, glancing into the mirror.

Wait! What was that!?

I stopped in my tracks. Then I stepped closer to the mirror, tilting my head from side to side, peering closely.

Ack! Sure enough! There it was! Planted on my chin like some sort of renegade celebratory flag. A long thin chin hair!!! How had this one escaped my notice? How long had it been growing? Why had no one mentioned it!?

I grasped the offensive invader between my finger tips, and tugged. I felt a vicious satisfaction at the small pinch of pain as it yielded the field. Victory!

Just yesterday I’d commented on Amy’s blog (Writing With Abandon) that I could relate to her comment about chin hairs. I’d added that I’d recently written in my notebook, “I wish I had the tenacity of chin hair.” Because really, what is as tenacious as chin hair?

I remember a friend telling me quite a long time ago, “Once you hit 35, you’ll start growing hairs in all sorts of unusual places.”

I remember scoffing at the idea. Until I didn’t.

Now, I religiously check my chin each morning, searching out these villanous strands of keratin and removing them with grim satisfaction.

Thinking of all of this reminded me of a poem I wrote long ago, and I thought I’d resurrect it again–kind of like those chin hairs keep resurrecting! When I went searching for it, I found another one that I’d totally forgotten about. Who knew I was so inspired by chin hair? I’m sharing both because, clearly chin hair is worth writing about! lol

One of life’s pressing questions…

Who is more persistent:
The thick, black hair
reappearing
firmly rooted 
in the softening skin
on the left side of my chin
or I 
who wield
the tweezers
victoriously
again and again?

©Molly Hogan

The Battle

There once was a hair on my chin
undetected when first it grew in
I noticed it there
Adrift in the air
And plucked it with shame and chagrin.

I’ve heard in some far-away places
women cherish the hair on their faces
But I can’t sport a ‘stache
with elan or panache
I vow to remove any traces.

Another one grew on my cheek.
(It happened in less than a week!)
I pulled that one too
without great ado
But with a full bellicose shriek.

Each day my reflection as mirrored
Shows renegade hairs have appeared
My expression is grim
As I tweeze and I trim
Not resigned to displaying a beard.

My tweezers flash bright through the air
Extracting each invading hair
There is not a thing cute
’bout my face so hirsute
I battle with growing despair.

I continue the gods to implore
to vanquish these whiskers galore
They’re more apt to dispatch
A peach-fuzzy soul patch
I win battles but never the war.

Molly Hogan

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Linda Baie at  Teacher Dance.