Washed and Waxed
In my earliest days in my newest home town I found my way to a local nail salon. As is the want of these establishments, they also offered the waxing of a variety of body parts. I decided that I was at the juncture in my hair growth cycle that required a fresh eyebrow wax, just to maintain the wonderfulness that is my well manicured and professionally arched brows. The woman, a term I use loosely because she’s really a monster that visits me in my nightmares, heard something different.
Along with a layer of skin (meaning that I had scabby welts that needed ointment for two days), half of my eyebrows were ripped from my forehead. I looked very surprised. No really. For like a month I looked as if I was in a permanent state of suspicion. I suppose when I entrust my eyebrows to an Asian woman who has drawn on her own brows, well above the supraorbital bone on her skull where the natural brow would sit had it not been entirely removed, I really only have myself to blame.
I won’t lie. I cried. The pain of the waxing was less upsetting than idea that I would have to be seen in public with these mangled arches (for the sake of reality, I suppose I should mention that Bruce saw very little wrong and had the audacity to state that he thought my brows were fine and the same as before the criminal hair napping took place).
The past three months entailed a procedure that included brow stencils and dark brown powder. Whilst I no longer looked surprised, I did look Mediterranean. I have purchased a professional eyebrow kit ($40 at Sephora and more than worth it, people buy this kit).
There has been an excellent re-growth process and my brows, those gentle non-invasive creatures that had never so much as offended a depilatory process and staunchly defended their right to frame my face in a manner that flattered and balanced my visage, my loved and perfect brows HAVE RETURNED!
Yesterday I noticed that I needed to clean up the eyebrows, to maintain…well you’ve heard this story already. I decided that someone else would not be touching my brows and I waxed them myself.
What the fuck? OUCH. No really, that was not good. There is a reason why people are well paid to abuse my body with hot wax. I cannot inflict that kind of pain on myself regularly.
At least I still have my epidermis. And I don’t look surprised.