I really don’t care much about my hair. If it weren’t for the fact that I am 75% gray prematurely, I doubt I would get it cut and colored regularly. My eyebrows, on the other hand, are an entirely different matter. Every other week, without fail, I’m at the salon waxing down the beasts. Today was no different, except for the fact I walked out of the salon looking like this:
I even have the same suicidal expression. Oh, wait. No I don’t. I look permanently stunned. My eyebrows are so arched I look like someone is repeatedly biting my ankles. I know I’m not crazy. My best-friend-ever Kara came over to drop off a birthday present for Nico and after she got over the initial shock of seeing so much of my eye sockets exposed to fresh air, all she could stammer was, “They’re…they’re…they’re not even the same size! One is crooked and really thin and the other is…really, really thin.” In other words, they look like crap.
I knew the second the girl ripped the wax off my face that they were going to be too thin. It was one of those now that didn’t feel right moments. One brief, terrifying look in the mirror and my worst fears were confirmed. Early 90s Drew Barrymore brows. What did I do after I was confronted with such horror? I smiled and tipped the girl 20%, naturally. Petunia Face would understand.