You can’t beat a good old pamper session.


Pamper sessionThe bathroom is a great place for quiet contemplation, and despite everyone’s best efforts to talk to me through the bathroom door, I try to work on the principle that it is the one place in the house where I can have solitude. It is at these times of distraction-free thinking that ideas can flow, inspiration can strike and answers to questions can be postulated.


It is not always easy to get a good view of the bits you are looking to study in the bathroom, but as I bobbed about trying to get a good view of my nose in the tiny section of the mirror that was devoid of condensation, a thought occurred to me. Why do women make so much of the concept of pampering?

“I’m off for a good pamper session,” is a phrase often spoken, or these days more likely posted as someone’s Facebook status. Usually, ‘pamper session’ amounts to having a bath, trimming of nails, washing of hair, shaving undesired hair and plucking strays from wherever they happen to be sprouting. To be honest, if you add in a good shit, you have got what most blokes would call, “Having a bath”. The main differences are the addition of a bottle of wine and carrying out everything by the light of scented candles. Personally, I think that is asking for trouble. On the rare occasions I have shaved after drinking alcohol, my face invariably looks as if I had entrusted a three year old with a cut-throat razor. If you add the idea of doing it in subdued lighting, I think I would probably shear off my nose.


floating candles photo

Couldn’t give a pluck.

Which conveniently brings me back to noses. Or more particularly, why nasal hair is attached to the eyeballs. It is quite fascinating how two apparently different objects can be so tightly connected, but it seems that either evolution knows something we don’t or it is proof that God is a mischievous character with a wicked sense of humour. What possible evolutionary purpose can there be for nasal hair to be so intrinsically attached to eyesight. Think about it. As we get older and our vision begins to deteriorate our nasal hair gets more prominent. Conversely, as the hair gets longer (and further from the eyeball), so our eyesight becomes poorer. This would suggest the optical cells must be in the very tips of the hairs and their increased distance from the eye’s lens means decreased performance. Sadly, some individuals can become completely blind to the fact that their nasal hair is on the outside and the hairs just hang there like the tentacles of a sea anemone.

What more proof do you need that the equipment required for good vision is located in nasal hair. ‘Nonsense’, I hear you say. ‘There is absolutely no connection between nasal hair and eyesight’. Well, there is an experiment that you can try. You simply grab hold of one and pull. You will find that when you do yank one of the buggers out, your eyes will immediately start streaming and you won’t be able to see anything for ages?

But getting rid of them isn’t that easy. As we have already discovered, if you have nose hair worthy of plucking, you do not have the eyesight capable of finding them to pluck. Secondly, with head tilted back and nostrils flared as wide as you can muster, the mirror mists up with the first hint of an outward breath. Which brings my story back to the bathroom. Having pampered and shaved, I was now desperately trying to grab a hair that I knew damn well was there because it tickled every time I breathed. Try as I might, every time I yanked the tweezers out I failed to remove the offending tentacle, and by now, I could barely see my nose or the hairs because of the misted up mirror. I sighed, took a step away from the bathroom cabinet and momentarily stood there with tweezers in one hand and the other hand in my pocket.

What’s in yours?

In my pocket? Why the bloody hell do pyjamas have pockets? Do the manufacturers think that the average sleeper needs a place to keep a penknife in case of bedtime emergencies? Or is it somewhere to keep your dreaming glasses for when you are having a particularly vivid dream? Maybe it is simply to keep condoms handy? Call me old fashioned, but if I am in need of a condom, I can assure you I will not be wearing pyjamas.

Pampering, plucking and pyjama pockets? The bathroom is a great place for quiet contemplation.


Photo by Javier Kohen