EYEBROW ENVY & SILVER-PLATED DROOL CUPS

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First things first, as I’ve not posted in over 2 months, I think a formal apology is in order.

Dear blog,

Please allow me to take this opportunity to apologize to you. You have been a good friend to me this past year….you have allowed me to share my passive-aggressive feelings without confrontation of any kind, and for this I am truly grateful. We have laughed and cried together and you’ve helped me to grow as an individual and discover a lot of things I had long forgotten about myself. You have also taught me many important lessons. Lessons like…don’t ever post the first part of a four part tutorial without having all the parts done….because inevitably the universe will throw you a curve ball, rendering you incapable of completing said tutorial. Ahem. I promise to do a better job of tending to you. Forgive me for seemingly abandoning you when life got really crazy and then crawling back when I really needed you…but most of all, thank you for loving me unconditionally and allowing me to do so anyway.

Good friends are like that.

Xoxo,

April

Alrighty, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s talk a little bit about envy. I cannot speak from the male point of view as I am not male. I’m not excluding a man’s voice here, my particular voice just happens to be that of the female of the species.

Every woman, at some point in her life, has been envious of another woman. Even the most intelligent, self confident and the beautiful could be envious of another woman’s assets. It could be her razor sharp wit, her sense of humor or her super mom skills. Physically, you may envy her honky-tonk badonk a donk, her six pack abs (she’s had how many kids? Obviously she’s a genetic anomaly, lol.), her long, lithe legs which seem to stretch for miles, her amazing ta-ta’s which seem to defy the law of gravity, or her Angelina Jolie-esqe pout.

I too suffer from envy, but it’s not your trim thighs, nor your lack of cankles that I pine for. Lady, I want your eyebrows. Your full, beautiful, perfectly-arched eyebrows.

Perhaps it is best if we start from the beginning……

I had eyebrows once. Lots of them, too. Then sometime in high school, I discovered the magic of tweezers. It started out innocently enough. You know, clean up the unibrow a bit, and then somewhere along the way I developed eyebrow envy. Not the full brow envy I suffer from now, but the micro thin, Pamela Anderson Baywatch kind. Now, styles come and styles go….and this certainly was not the first time thin eyebrows were the fashion. Think Greta Garbo. Actually, that sounds way better. Forget I mentioned Pam Anderson, Garbo sounds way classier.

There are things they don’t tell you about plucking your eyebrows (and, by the way, if you’re one of those fancy city types that have only ever gone to a salon to have their eyebrows waxed, well, good for you, sister. That ain’t how country folk roll). Things like the fact that if you have even a mildly addictive personality type sprinkled with a pinch of OCD like tendencies, you will probably not know when to stop….and sadly, no one ever sat me down for an intervention. The other thing they don’t tell you is that if you pluck your eyebrows to oblivion, that is where they end up. At some point, they just give up, throw their tiny little eyebrow hands up in disgust and say “I quit.” Eyebrows are said to frame the face. If that is the case, then mine are condemned and scheduled for demolition.

I have often thought about starting a support group for people like me called “Overpluckers Anonymous.” “Hello, my name is April….and I’m an overplucker.” Good gravy, it feels so good to finally get that out there. Accountability is the first step, folks.

My eyebrows consume far more of my time and money than I would like to admit. I have penciled and powdered them. I have used fiber based liquids, which claim to build upon themselves (remember Ron Popeil’s GLH? Great looking hair…from a can) and ended up looking like wooly bears were crawling across my forehead. I kept waiting for Dick Goddard to show up, but he never did.

I have had them tattooed at a spa. I have considered eyebrow wigs (yes, they exist), as well as eyebrow “stamps” which utilize semi-permanent ink (yes, these exist as well….and I wonder, would a brown Sharpie marker work?). In frustration I have considered shaving them off completely and having bangs cut to cover up my forehead. But I’m not that desperate….yet.

I would like to clarify that I actually do have some eyebrows. These guys are warriors, and in a natural selection process would clearly propagate their kind. Unfortunately they are weirdly uneven and have bald patches. I look like that crazy old lady behind you in line at the grocery store, brows drawn on with shaky hands. Groan. Let’s face it. I am that crazy old lady. Pepper in a few cats and a few more stops at the thrift store and I think I’m well on my way to a guest appearance on Hoarders.

The irony of all of this is that I have very animated facial expressions….and eyebrows are kind of important when it comes to facial expressions.

Speaking of facial expressions, one of my very best friends recently shared with me that she was getting Botox. I started to worry for her. You see, this woman has the most beautifully expressive face. Eyes that light up when she laughs and a smile that is utterly contagious. She absolutely brings a room to life simply with her presence and I am all at once afraid that some hack job doctor is going to get a hold of her gorgeous face, inject it all up with botulism and that she’s going to look like Mary Jo Buttafucco after that psycho Amy Fisher shot her over that jerk face Joey.

I begin to question my fear. Of course I am concerned for my friend and her health and well-being. But I have to admit to myself that – selfishly – I am fearful of her face being frozen, unable to express how she feels…and how she makes me and everyone around her feel when it lights up. Simply put, I would miss her face.

I swear to her that if this happens I promise to craft her the most beautiful silver-plated, rhinestone-encrusted drool cup the world has ever seen. Her face might become paralyzed, but dang it, a girl still has to accessorize with dignity.

So back to my eyebrows. I’m attempting to let them grow (does Rogaine work on eyebrows?). They are still wildly uneven (more progress on the right than the left) and the bald patches remain. A faint reminder of the tattoos are still there, and I have vowed to myself to only pluck outside of the lines. I resist the urge to announce a 3 month eyebrow challenge, or some such nonsense, complete with before and after pictures because, well….I see how well that 4 part tutorial of mine turned out. I briefly consider getting rid of the tweezers altogether and going cold turkey, but….wait. Is that a nose hair I see?

If by some chance we happen upon the opportunity to have a face to face conversation, and it seems as though I am staring at your forehead, I am. My apologies in advance, I am distracted by your perfectly lovely brows.

Peace, love and Blessings to All,

April

P.S.

Dear Santa,

I still have my two front teeth, may I please have some eyebrows for Christmas? Or can you please give some doctor the go ahead for nose hair to eyebrow transplant surgery?

Love,

Partially bald in Appalachia