Having Keratosis Pilaris (or ‘chicken skin’ as cruel people like to call it) is a curse – make no mistake about it. But, sometimes – and I feel a bit strange saying this but nobody knows me so it doesn’t matter – I actually quite enjoy having it.
Yes, because when there’s not much on the telly, and after I’ve fed the cat and put the chickens to bed, I love nothing more than to sit with my legs propped up – a pair of tweezers in one hand and a hot chocolate in the other – and to hunt for any lower leg hairs that have become trapped, through no fault of their own, under my skin.
And, you know, I can’t tell you the amount of hours that I’ve idled away carrying out this quite gross but actually extremely necessary activity (it’s probably double-figures) but I never tire of it… because no hair is ever the same.
Sometimes I get a long one, sometimes I get a curled-up one and sometimes I hit the jackpot with a ‘doubler.’ Woo-hoo! Two for the price of one.
And what can I compare the pleasure of plucking to?
Metal-detecting, I suppose… yes, it’s exactly like metal-detecting. You go over the same area a couple of times – “blip-blip” nothing – and then “bleeeeep” you get a doubler. It’s so exciting.
And when I’m done I always feel a slight sense of sadness… but not for long…
because Keratosis Pilaris is the gift that keeps on giving and I know that, provided I don’t use my skin-mitt or flannel or skin-brush for a week or so, they’ll be back and – yeay! – it’ll be ‘tweezer and hot choccy time’ again. I can’t wait.