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Thursday, September 13, 2007

Eyebrow Mania

So my sister in law, V says today, "I was managing my eyebrows and...

Whoa. Eyebrow management. We all do it, but V's cooler than most of us. And she has really great eyebrows, kind of old-school Brooke Shields, but with an edge. I'm actually jealous of her eyebrows, but I try not to let it consume me. It would seem that V is now spending a fair amount of time and energy on eyebrow management, and it may be indirectly my fault.

When I was pregnant, I made her come with me to get a pedicure because I wanted company. I got a lot of pedicures when I was pregnant; I couldn't reach my toes. I've read that some women get their husbands to do the job when they can't reach. I've also read that some husbands will perform bikini area grooming. No. Thanks. Not that mine would be willing, but the results might be a bit scary and I wouldn't want anything too shocking on display at the obstetrician's office. I live in a smallish town and it might get back to my mother.

Anyhow, V liked the pedicure and decided to go on a regular basis. A few weeks later, she breezed into her neighborhood mani pedi joint after a trip to the grocery store next door and sat back to have her toenails restored to their previous state of fabulousness. As V relaxed into the ten speed massage chair, the technician looked up and began berating her, in a rather loud voice. V had no idea why she was being chastised and got more worried as the technician approached hysteria. Eventually, another technician was called over to translate the dire warnings. She didn't do much better, but had mad charades skills. She pressed the back of her wrists against her forehead, fingers extended and wriggling wildly, as she harangued V. It would seem that the well intentioned ladies of Nail Trixx* were trying to inform V that her eyebrows resembled a live, drunk octopus.

The moment was ripe with tension and urgency. V. allowed herself to be propelled into a corner and strapped into a chair. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as the Queen of Charades whipped a shower curtain around the two of them. V was grateful for the curtain, as it was the only thing shielding her from prying eyes in the grocery store parking lot. When I suddenly developed major complications in my first pregnancy and had an emergency c-section at 30 weeks, there was less urgency. And the nurses and doctors were a lot calmer than the ladies of Nail Trixx. And they knocked me out, unlike V's tormentors who, without warning, poured hot wax on her eyelids, let it dry and ripped it off. More plucking and scolding followed. All for the low, low price of five dollars!

In the calm after the assault, as she contemplated whether or not to notify the police, V looked in a mirror and acknowledged that the torture might have had decent results. I saw her later that day and, without knowing about her harrowing experience, told her she looked great. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something about her. Perhaps it was the adrenaline putting color in her cheeks.

V. has returned regularly to the not-exactly-upscale Nail Trixx for eyebrow grooming and pedicures. The price of the eyebrow attack has gone up to eight dollars, but V thinks it's worth it and, I must admit, her eyebrows do look great. They're a real personal style statement. One of our mutual friends believes that the secret to attracting men is in having impeccably groomed brows. Maybe because neat eyebrows lead them to imagine you groom other areas too. Men are perverts, n'est-ce pas? By the way, I wouldn't recommend Nail Trixx for bikini waxes, because the dollar store shower curtain is the only privacy measure. Sometimes, it's worth it to pay more to go to the fancy place.

The latest insult, the one that compelled V to step up her eyebrow management routine, was the information, offered with gusto by the ladies of Nail Trixx, that a very small segment (about a millimeter wide) of her left eyebrow grows down towards her eyes. The Queen of Charades, who seems to be the ring leader, believes this is the result of a chicken pox scar. I really hope they don't offer laser resurfacing at Nail Trixx, because I'm afraid V. will end up blind if she lets them do it. She was warned to keep it trimmed...or else. I think she's convinced that the Nail Trixx Mafia spies on her.

I wish I could show you a picture of her "before" eyebrows, so you would understand how over the top the Eyebrow Mafia's hysteria was, but I would have to strap her into a chair to get that picture. And I'd have to convince her to forgo eyebrow management for at least three weeks, and she's more afraid of the ladies of Nail Trixx than she is of me.

By the way, if you're looking to make this political, it's not. V's self esteem is just ducky and always has been. She just has really awesome eyebrows to go with it now.

Namasté, y'all!

* Name of the nail salon has been changed to protect me!

1 comment:

Brenda said...

Oh that is hilarious! I'm dying over the Eyebrow Mafia and Queen of Charades.

I've got decent eyebrows, but managing them makes a big difference in my opinion. I keep trying to get my sister to do hers, but she is stubborn thing. I wonder if a Nail Trixx heavy would work on her. :)