Mar 272013

Years ago prior to the advent of cell phones, remote control multi-CD players and magical satellite radio bringing the musical stylings of live rock concerts from London, drivers had to find something else to do during tedious traffic light stops.

We spent significant time tuning in local radio stations, often having to settle for an AM channel featuring the musical stylings of Jimmy Bob from down the way.

A pile of cassette tapes. with the tape rolled in

A pile of cassette tapes. with the tape rolled in and everything

Other traffic light distractions included attempting to reach the passenger side door located six feet away to manually roll down the window before the light turned green while trying to keep your foot on the brake, winding cassette tape back into the cassette casing because your tape player at it for breakfast again, and the time-honored tradition of surreptitiously picking one’s nose.

This brings me to my own long-held traffic light tradition of examining my face in minute detail in the visor mirror, thereby smartly utilizing red light time and all that natural light flooding in the window like a spotlight. I developed my face-gazing technique back in my cassette-and-manual-window days because I was deprived of my entertaining cell phone, even though I didn’t know it yet.

This is how I discovered that under-eye wrinkles grow at an incremental rate once noticed and that my eyes really are a gorgeous, fabulous heart-melting blue (eat your heart out). I became intimately acquainted with the fact that the forehead furrow so lovingly established during my eyebrow-raising childhood deepened at a terribly young age, to such a degree that I could plant corn in there if I wanted to.

And then I noticed facial hair one day. Yes, chin whiskers. Long chin whiskers with the astounding ability to grow overnight. I know this because YESTERDAY when I was visor-mirror gazing, they were not there. Absolutely not there. I would’ve known. I’m a champion visor-mirror gazer with years of experience under my belt.

(Chin whiskers WILL happen to you, ladies in your 20′s and 30′s).

Which brings me to my whole point. Perhaps next time I feel the urge to examine my new crop of terribly attractive facial hair in minute detail while waiting at a traffic light, I should first examine the world directly outside of my vehicle. A few things must quickly be ascertained:  is the natural light flooding through my window spotlight bright, and are there any cars full of jackass teenage boys idling right next to the driver’s side door.

If these two conditions are presenet, do NOT – repeat do NOT – commence to examine your facial hair in minute detail while gazing, transfixed, into the visor mirror.

Unless you like jackass teenage boys pointing, guffawing, rolling down their (new-fangled electric) windows, shouting, and taking pictures with their cell phones.

Of you.

And your chin hairs.