…or at least my eyebrows did!
I stopped tweezing my eyebrows over two years ago. I used to be a tweezaholic in high school and college. Fortunately, my eyebrows mostly grew back. Mostly. There were a few patches of skin left, but since my eyebrows are on the fuller side, it is nothing that an eyebrow pencil, or wax, can’t fill. (If I knew how to use one.) That doesn’t mean that I don’t need touch ups. I do, but my experience has taught me not to trust brow techs. So, I hold out for long stretches of time, while allowing myself to look a little feral. The last time I got my eyebrows down, the eastern european woman left me looking like Cruella Deville.
The fact is eyebrow techs do not show restraint. They see my long sabertoothe overgrown hairs and they get to work. I ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS tell them what I want. ‘Do not leave me with thin eyebrows. I want them to remain full. Just clean up the bottom and trim sparingly.’ It goes in one ear and it goes out the other. They nod and say of course. Then they get to work and hairs are flying everywhere. Whether it is threading, tweezing or waxing, it does not matter. They are there to subjugate the forest above my eyes.
So, today, I decided on a whim to get my eyebrows cleaned up and I said exactly that I wanted. I saw the brow tech and saw she had thick drawn on eyebrows, arty but full, not necessarily all her own. But I thought, ‘yes!, a woman who appreciates fuller eyebrows.’ Nope. Did not matter. Once she started she could not stop.
Now, it is not all her fault. I could have said something as I felt the whirl of hairs fluttering down my face and the snips. This is where it becomes my fault. I become a long stretched out cat being stroked when any spa, or grooming activity, is being done. I just relax and enjoy it. Part of my brain is sounding a klaxon alert, but my Id does not care, I am waaaaaaaaay to comfortable and drunk from the soothing sensations to say anything to stop her. One of these days, I am going to go in for a little clean up of the brows and hair trim and I am going to walk out bald and with no eyebrows. Mark my words…*
So when she showed me the first eyebrow, I already knew it was too late. I said “Perfect!” What was a I going to do? Stop her and look like the Hunchbrow of Notredame? Be an asshole and start shrieking? Now, here is where it gets weird. Whenever I get my eyebrows done, people LOVE IT. This is where it all comes down to different tastes. I love full eyebrows and I love them on me. I wish my eyebrows were thicker and longer than what they are. But most people, particularly those not into “editorial looks” love thin, short, defined eyebrows, whether it works on their face or not. I don’t get it and never will. I guess people must think I look like a feral beast out on the street or something….but I am ok with that because, and here is the key, I LIKE MY FERAL EYEBROWS. NO ONE ELSE HAS TO LIKE THEM, AS LONG AS I DO. You know, kind of like when you are really attracted to a guy that just doesn’t get the same attention as other dudes who look really, really pretty? But he is the hottest thing ever to you? Yeah….
Anyways, my eyebrows have been plucked, cropped, and shortened…I hope they grow back quickly. I feel older and more ordinary now. I wouldn’t be surprised if my new tweezed eyebrows made me look 10 years older…Part of me wants to go all out and just Nair it and go eyebrowless…then I remember I have a meeting next week with someone new…I really just want to Nair it and start all over and at least get the novel experience of going eyebrowless, while making up some extreme story about how my eyebrows were yanked off…oh well.
I don’t know if I will post what my eyebrows look like now. But I cropped a year old closeup pic when my eyebrows were in its natural state, where you can see their natural feralness.
*Actually, this did happen about five years ago. I was contemplating getting a short bob, but decided to get a “Lob” instead, longer bob with bangs. I had come in with a few pictures of the “Lob” a day before the cut. I came in for my cut and I was soothed into getting a super short bob, but the stylist ended up giving me an asymmetrical butch cut. It was her way of trying to clean up a cut (super short bob) that was not meant for my bone structure or hairtype. My hair went bye bye. She had clearly taken off more than I had initially agreed to, but boy did it feel GREAT!!!! Of course, when I looked in the mirror, I was like whoah – ugh…then I walked out of their feeling very unfeminine…and oddly very powerful. Like I felt really unattractive, but at the same time super powerful. Like if someone were to have given me stink eye, I would have kicked their ass, and felt great about it, powerful.
PS – I am not a long hair snob. I like short hair. I just do not have the features for short hair….short is not a good look when you do not have a small head with small, delicate OR super defined features…However, my short hair phase was the “funnest” hair phase I ever had. My hand was always in my hair, ruffling it up like feathers. And washing my hair? Forget about it. I did it every day because it was fun and easy. When my hair is shoulder length and longer, it takes FOREVER to dry and my hair becomes too dry from overwashing. Right now, my scalp is saying FREE ME…but my recollection of the awkward growing out phase is saying HELL NO.
Fairytales and Coffee 