My husband has failed at his husbandly duties. I feel shocked and betrayed. This morning I discovered no less than four black hairs growing on my chin. These hairs were so thick they could have been pubic hair. If they were any closer together, I could have braided them.

When I asked my husband why he hadn't mentioned the pubic hair growing on my chin, he told me that he loved me and truly hadn't noticed. I informed him that now that we have multiple small children—it is his duty to keep my appearance under control. Didn't he remember the marriage vows? Love, honor and patrol for chin hairs regularly?

I mean really. I can barely manage to take a shower on a bi-weekly basis. I just don't have time to be checking for chin hairs or noticing that my knees have bangs. That's his job.

He said he would do his best, but couldn't promise anything. Okay. I get it. He's busy too. But, I mean how much time does it take to work four jobs, do the lawn care, and repair all the things that the children and I are constantly destroying in the house. Not much I'm sure.

I guess I'm partially to blame. I've really let my standards go since having children. I remember when I actually cared about looking nice when I left the house. Now I often sleep in my clothes and wear the same ones the very next day. I do change my underwear though. Gotta have some standards, right?

And speaking of standards, I remember when my sweet husband (before we were even married) paid for me to get laser hair removal. If that had never happened, you would really be afraid to be seen in public with me now. Before the laser hair removal, I visited a doctor in South America who diagnosed me as half-man after viewing the amount of hair growing on my legs. “Don't worry,” he said. “We can perform a blood test to determine what percentage man you really are. But I can cure you either way. Just sign here and we'll order the blood test immediately.” I got out of his office so fast that I didn't notice I had put on my clothes inside out and backwards until I was outside in the parking lot.

Truth be told, I do still care about my appearance to some degree. It is definitely lower on the priority list than ever before, but I don't particularly want to be recruited by Ringling Brothers as the bearded lady. If my husband isn't going to be a reliable Chin Hair Patrol Officer, what should I do? I guess I could enlist my five-year-old to help me. Yep. That's a great idea. Now I just have to locate those tweezers….