You're not really a woman until...

I am vaguely sure that the punishment for all the crap we put our moms through is this:

Totally random, oddly spaced beard hairs that appear out of nowhere. One morning you just wake up and BAM there it is in all its manly glory. One very long hair on your chin that was most definitely not visible the night before is growing out of your chin like a mini version of Jack's magical beanstalk.

But you aren't yet a woman of substance until you are touching up your make up in your office and one wayward follicle puts you in such a panic that you begin to dig frantically for something, anything that will make it go away. You dump your purse out on your desk but are unable to find any device capable of plucking that lone beard hair. Until....

I know. It is truly tragic. But this isn't a carnival; what is a girl to do. Really.