My middle kid is beginning to think a bit less about hoola hooping and a bit more about looking pretty. She asked for a hair straightener for Christmas. It’s basically an iron – I use it on my shirts sometimes. I’m afraid of it. It’ll burn the crap out of you. And where do you use it? Right near your head and face. I wouldn’t use a chain saw to cut my hair. Why use an iron to straighten it? Dan-ger-ous!
Recently, we were at Belk and went to their glass eyebrow closet. Very, very interesting.
We thought it might be time to shape up the little devils. I decided I’d watch carefully so that I could do them next time and save $20. If I have to fund six ten-dollar brows a month for the next decade, that’s $7,200. I wonder if we let them grow together in the middle if she’d just charge me for one. Oh, and you gotta leave a tip. Maybe they could rotate months – left brow on the evens and right on the odds.
Stephanie sat on a tall pink stool while the lady inspected her face with a big magnifying mirror. Why would anyone look at their face with a mirror like this? It accentuates your ugly. I held it up to my eyeball, and it scared me to death. My eye looked like Uncle Festus from the Adams Family. Huge dark circles helped frame the droopy bags. There is skin resting on the top of my eyelid. It serves no purpose. What’s it doing there? It looked like you could have stored my spare change in the pores. Don’t look in those mirrors. A glance in a full length on the way out of the door is as close as a 47-year-old should get to their own reflection. I look much better from a distance.
The clinician then used Stuart Little’s comb and scissors to trim Steph’s brows. It was like a mini Supercuts. I told her to take plenty off the sides but to leave enough in the front for a solid part. I could do that; it didn’t look very hard.
The woman then pulled out a honey jar full of hot tan wax. She slopped a blob above Stephanie’s left eyebrow. When I was a kid, I loved hot wax. I couldn’t wait until the Christmas Eve service at church. Excited about Jesus’ birthday? Nah. I was pumped that we got to hold lit candles and drip the wax on our hands. My brother and I would turn the candle on its side and wax the inside of our palms. It was painful but in a good sort of way. My late night church services and shoving my hands in my mom’s candles after a dinner party would surely be enough experience for me to take on this task in the future.
“This might sting a bit,” our Belk employee warned. She grabbed the end of the wax and RRRRRIIIP! Those little hairs didn’t have a chance.
I think my girls are beautiful with or without eyebrows. But if they want to spiffy them up, I’m game. Gonna dig in the church supply closet on Sunday to find the box marked Christmas candles. Once I find them, we’re good to go!