Until recently Grungella was unaware that there exists an object called a nose hair trimmer. You see, while girls have to contend with unwanted hair growth on body parts which they prefer to be smooth (although some cultures and fetishists are not covered by this generalization), and submit themselves to waxing, plucking, laser removal, depilatory creams, and other tortures reminiscent of the Spanish Inquisition, they rarely have hairs growing out of their nostrils.
Occasionally they must deal with monobrows — not everyone has Frida Kahlo’s sense of style — and mustaches — Grungella recalls one female professor with a disturbing resemblance to Adolf Hitler — but one rarely encounters females who have to wax inside their noses. A strand or two may sometimes emerge into the light, but these are easily dealt with. (If we are mistaken in this assumption, drop us a line at the email address below. Anonymity guaranteed.)
Nose hairs are a guy issue, as is ear hair, which we apologize for having mentioned, especially if you are reading the paper over Sunday brunch.
Grungella distinctly remembers sitting next to a deeply attractive person at a luncheon and surreptitiously checking out his profile, only to realize that the shadow above his upper lip was not in fact a shadow, but a thatch of nose hairs. She immediately stifled an “Eww!” with the edge of the tablecloth. Human nature being what it is, she began to imagine excuses for this grooming oversight. Perhaps he did not wear his glasses while shaving, so he did not detect the fuzz in the mirror. Or maybe he was so devoid of vanity that he never even looked in the mirror...
Once or twice, Grungella had to stop herself from offering her seatmate her dependable Swiss knife, which has a tiny pair of scissors.
Imagine Grungella’s delight the other week, when she discovered that there is a gadget specifically designed to deal with nasal hair growth. Her friend Ernie announced that he had urgent need of a nose hair trimmer — a small pair of scissors with curved blades that could be inserted into one’s nasal cavity without de-nosing himself. Grungella and Bert immediately snapped into action. A mission! One that would require their well-honed mall navigation skills!
The mission turned out to be more difficult than they thought. They visited half a dozen stores selling personal care and grooming products, but there was not a single nose hair trimmer to be found. Ernie was already considering the use of nail scissors or tweezers when Bert had a brainstorm.
“Let’s go to that Swiss kitchenware place where I bought my frying pan,” he suggested. “They sell knives, they may have what we’re looking for.”
Grungella suppressed a mental image of Ernie and Bert sticking cutlery up their noses. The three trudged to the Zwilling shop, where among the cleavers and whisks Ernie asked the salesperson if they carried nose hair trimmers.
“The regular scissor type is out of stock,” she said, “but we have this.” And she produced this tiny marvel of engineering design.
It is about two inches high, and looks like a tiny rocket launcher. It is digitally-operated, meaning you hold its base with your fingers. The apparatus is gently inserted into a nostril, and then the base is squeezed. This activates the tiny blades inside the gadget’s head, which proceed to snip off any hairs in their vicinity. Unlike the scissor-type trimmer, there is no danger of bloodshed — the tiny blades are housed in a cage-like structure so there is no direct contact with skin.
Not only is it extremely efficient — it comes with a tiny brush — it is also beautiful. Grungella and Ernie agreed that a species that can create a minute machine for nasal grooming that is beautiful as well as efficient cannot be all bad. Of course, form and function come at a price: this nose hair trimmer from Zwilling costs P1,600 (P1,700 if you want the little leather case). That’s considerably more than a small pair of scissors, and more than Ernie’s recent haircut.
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