The Hair

Yesterday, Paul got lesson #2 in The Hair. As a Mennonite, I am primarily of Eastern European descent. Mostly Russian, in fact. I am very proud of my Russian heritage. My grandparents spoke Russian to me ( I only remember Ya tebya lyublyu (SP?) though, which means I love you), and my parents sometimes tell me stories of their parents from the Russian revolution and stuff. Very cool. Being Russian/Eastern European also means that I am somewhat unusual looking to Western eyes, or so I am constantly told. I'm extremely pale, with very dark hair and blue eyes. Very pale with dark hair may SOUND cool, its so not.

On my last visit to GA, Paul and I were in the well lit kitchen when he leaned over and said that I had a pug hair on my cheek, he went to brush it off...it wasn't a dog hair. He was stunned to realize that it was attached to my face, all two inches of it. I ran off, horrified, to my trusty, never-leave-home-without-them tweezers and pulled it out. I nearly cried and begged him to swear that he still wanted to have sex with me in future. He was a bit confused, but reassured me.

Then on my last day here, on the last trip, we were at IHOP and he said, very carefully "Jenn, I love you very much and you are beautiful and sexy to me". Then he reached over and plucked another long, black hair from my cheek. I was slightly less horrified this time.

Then yesterday was the next lesson. We were lying on the bed chatting and I kept leaning over to scratch the back of my leg, just above my knee joint. Finally, I got up to look at it, cause I had had a bump there for weeks. Not surprisingly, it was infected, with a quarter sized red ring all around it. I felt around and determined that there was an ingrown hair there. Not even a remotely unusual thing for me. I couldn't get it out though, so I asked Paul, hesitantly. He obliged, but felt that he couldn't get it, cause only a millimetre or two was sticking out. He kept saying "I don't want to hurt you" etc. What a cutie, as though any sort of hair removal could hurt ME! So he tried and tried and eventually he got it. It felt great. I could feel it starting to heal instantly. I rolled over, however and looked at him, and he actually recoiled at the sight of the hair. "This...can't be your hair." I replied that obviously it was my hair, it had been embedded in my skin for months. He gulped and showed me the hair, eyes wide. It was at least 2 inches long and jet black and thick as a wire. Very common for me. But he kept looking at it wide eyes and saying "this can't have come from your body, Jenn. There was only the smallest bit sticking out, so all of this was growing inside your thigh?" I tried to soothe him and point out that this is the way The Hair works. But he was pretty horrified. I'm not sure if he was grossed out by my hairyness, or by the fact that the hair was so deeply ingrown, or felt bad for me that I have dozens of these on me at all time which is why I always have red, infected bumps all over any part of my that is capable of growing hair (which is, pretty much everywhere). I think he may never look at me the same way.

This morning he came to kiss me goodbye before he left for work. He kissed me and said that he loved me and he left. 3 or 4 minutes later the door opened again. I looked up and he was standing there looking at me. I said 'what, hon?" He was quiet for a second and then beamed at me and said "I STILL love you!"

Life is good.