I’m the type of person who prefers simplicity. Working from home means my typical outfit consists of yoga pants with a few holes and cozy sweaters. Dressing up for me usually involves putting on real pants and possibly adding a bit of lipstick—mascara is reserved for special occasions. Thankfully, I’ve been gifted with decent skin, so I tend to skip the foundation and blush altogether.
Hair maintenance has never been a huge concern for me; I don’t have a lot of body hair. My shaving routine is simple—I usually tend to my legs and armpits every few days, but only during the summer when they’re on display. My eyebrows are naturally full, which I like, and I’ve managed to avoid any unibrow, sideburns, or mustache—until recently.
About two weeks ago, I noticed something alarming: the fine hairs above my upper lip seemed to darken significantly. What on earth was happening? I turned 38 this winter, a milestone that feels dangerously close to 40. Along with that, I started noticing a surge of gray hairs mingling with my natural locks. Each time I pulled my hair back into a bun, there seemed to be more grays than before.
Upon discovering the unexpected mustache, I jokingly wondered if the loss of pigment in my hair was somehow relocating to my face—though I knew that made no sense.
When I was a teenager, I spent ages fretting over what I thought was a noticeable mustache, thanks to a magnifying mirror. Convinced those tiny hairs were a visible issue, I resorted to one of the dumbest decisions of my life: using my mom’s pink razor to shave it off. Predictably, I cut myself, and the first drop of blood sent me into a panic, causing me to abandon the task entirely.
I always believed that the hairs I did manage to shave grew back darker, which made me relieved that I hadn’t gone further. For 25 years, that upper lip hair sat quietly in the background—until now.
After spotting the change in my mustache a few weeks ago, I initially tried to brush it off. Maybe it was just my imagination. However, it became impossible to ignore, appearing in every mirror and photo I encountered. I knew I had to do something.
I swore I wouldn’t bring a razor near it again and was wary of waxing, fearing it would lead to even darker regrowth. So, I ventured to the drugstore and picked up some “crème bleach” (what an elegant term!). This felt incredibly embarrassing, and I kept it to myself, unsure if it would even work or make it worse. The last thing I wanted was for my mustache to turn bright white, which didn’t sound appealing at all.
One Saturday night, while my husband was at a family gathering and the kids were asleep, I decided to try the bleach. The application stung more than the instructions indicated, and I briefly thought about washing it off before sticking it out.
When it was all done, the results were surprisingly good! The hairs lightened back to their previous shade, and thankfully, my skin held up despite the initial sting. When my husband returned, I excitedly shared my adventure, only to find out he hadn’t even noticed my mustache in the first place (note to self: men can be oblivious).
Now, I’ve also noticed that my upper lip skin is a bit darker too. Ever heard of melasma? Neither had I, but I’m learning there’s cream available to help with that, and I need to be diligent with my sunscreen application.
And apparently, this mustache saga isn’t over. Friends have warned me that chin hair could be next. Fantastic!
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In summary, aging comes with unexpected surprises, like the sudden appearance of a mustache. While I’ve learned to tackle it with humor and creativity, I’m also bracing myself for what else may come my way in this journey of self-acceptance and beauty maintenance.