Chins, Pores, and... Arachnids?

what we see and what we can't see

Welcome readers, old and new! 

Please hit the ❤️ above to encourage all HNTFUYF-ers to think twice about inter-species communication.

Speaking of communication, to enrich my experiences in Japan, I’ve been trying to teach myself some Japanese with the help of this terrific app. Unsurprisingly, research shows that learning a new language can have multiple benefits. My granddaughter, M, also has been learning how to read—and though she’s far ahead of me in the process, when I now hear her sounding out words, I can relate in a way I wouldn’t have had I not started my own (albeit halting) reading journey. I’m looking forward to the time (if ever) when I can send a text in Japanese, though I’m pretty sure it’ll read something like the one I got from M the other day, with a picture of a tiny flag: What is this flaog cold?

🤔 🤔 🤔

A reader recently wondered if there was something she might do to develop a better relationship with her chin, of all things. Isn’t it interesting how we tend to focus on one feature that then becomes a repository of our discontent? After I read her email, I asked this Reader to send me a photo, so I could have a better idea of her issue. I was expecting (as she later surmised) a Jay Leno look-alike. But her photo revealed a gorgeous face with a chin well within what one might think of as normal size. This kind of thing happens with some frequency in HNTFUYF’s confession booth: Dear Reader admits to an extreme facial predicament not apparent to the naked eye.

Anyway, chin shape and skin texture—the dilemmas of the moment.

The beauty Q&A in this post is available only to paid subscribers. For full access to all posts—and if you value reader-supported work—please become a paid subscriber at the current rate of $40/year. If you can’t afford a subscription, email me at valeriemonroe.substack.com and I’ll comp you one, no questions asked. 🙏🏻