I'm not sure quite when it happened. Sometime during college. Maybe it was when I let a friend wax them for me. I remember being unhappy although I'm not sure she was the one who rid them of their fabulousness or not.
In reminiscence of days long gone, I have been putting up with quite a bit of shag above my eyes to remedy what I feel is slightly thin and uneven brows. Conveniently, this has corresponded with my busy schedule which after a long day, I can rarely bring myself to endure the torture session of plucking I have to endure on an almost daily basis since the ripe old age of, like 8.
Anyway, I finally saved up enough stray follicles I felt this would be a good time to go in for an eye brow tune up, or the professional brow wax. I wanted a friend of mine who also happens to be a professional to do it but I just couldn't wait anymore. I didn't want horrible Christmas pictures, you know, to remember my unibrow for years to come.
It seems all women I know go in for regular waxing sessions and think this is the only way. The esthetician has asked me before, "How often do you have to come in?" I always think, "Are you kidding me?" If I paid every time I needed my eyebrows done I would be in the poor house. --At least I would have nice eyebrows?
Despite my highest hopes, almost every time I go to the "professional" who I assume is someone who goes to school all for the purpose of learning the wonders of perfect brow waxing, I come away mildly unhappy. Today I was displeased.
All my saving up...and without really asking, she assumed I wanted the "natural look" which to her must mean, "take out any of her feminine arch and give her a straight line (mind you, she took away the connector so it wasn't quite the Bert from Sesame Street, but pretty darn close). She assured me this would help me maintain it more "since I am so busy and don't have time to come in much." (Since I was planning on that anyway?)
So here they are in all of their Sesame Street glory! I thought about not putting up this horrid picture, but I thought it may make my point more, like those weight loss pictures where they wear a ratty T-shirt, stick out their gut, and don't wear any makeup. Now I just need a beautiful picture of Angelina Jolie's brows to show you what a huge mess she made of me. But I don't have any of those and I'm ready for bed.
(PS do I really have uneven, lazy eyes? hilarious..please tell me I just haven't sleptwhile on call.)
Anyway, if you are still with me, I even had to ask if she purposefully left some of my unibrow (you can still seem some remnants on my right eye) or if she was going to get rid of those.
Here is where I think I went wrong. I got home early from work today. Early means, before 5-ish, which didn't feel too early since I spent the night at the hospital twice already this week, slept about 12 hours in 3 days, and woke up at 5 am this morning to see patients. Anyway, I am turning this into a novel so back to the story.
My mistake: I called the salon by my house, "I know the weather is horrible and wondered if you had any cancellations for this evening." I was told to come right away. Ok. I had just crawled out of the shower and was in my warm sweats. I am not afraid to go out in public looking like a complete scrub so I got in my car and raced down there.
Once I arrived I felt I had made a mistake. I felt out of place in this pretty uppity salon. And as you all know, first impressions are the most important. Immediately, she pegged me as the all natural girl, who never does her eyebrows and never had any semblence of fabulousness to boot. And off she went.
I know I am being a bit of a drama queen (isn't that what blogs are for, though, really?) but I was so bothered. Bothered I paid money to someone who didn't care at all for what I wanted (to return to my beautiful, not too thin, nicely curved arches) and made assumptions about what kind of brow I should have based on my post-call, tired, sweat panted self. It will take months or even years of shaggy brows to get back where I was (I know, because I still can't get back there).
New Year's Resolution: arches here I come