I feel bad about my eyebrows...

Nora Ephron wrote a best-selling book about her neck. My insecurities lie elsewhere.  Let me tell you about my eyebrows.  The modern face is all about the eyebrows, isn't it?  Everywhere I turn, people are talking about a strong brow and how the brows frame the face.  Waxing and threading salons have popped up everywhere.  Even men get their eyebrows groomed these days.  Can I just interject one tiny observation?

It's hair, People.  It's hair on your face, over your eyes, like two wriggly caterpillars.  Must we give them so much distinction?

You think I'm jealous?  That I covet a strong, face-framing brow?  Yes, I admit it, I feel bad about my eyebrows.  For one thing, I barely have any.  There's definitely no face-framing going on.  The sardonic arching of the brow is a non-verbal expression I'll never display.   A display, I might add, that captures the inner workings of my psyche perfectly.  If I could raise my eyebrow sardonically,  I would be 62% more successful by my own estimations that I just made up.  Or less.  I'm not really sure how that might turn out.  I can see where raising a sardonic eyebrow might sometimes land one in hot water with one's boss, colleagues and/or husband.  Still, I am confident I would enjoy expressing myself with just the arch of a glossy, groomed eyebrow.

I stare at my brows in the mirror and I wonder....what the hell am I supposed to do with these things?  I've tried brow powder and pencils, I've bought kits and practiced, I've watched you tube videos, and still I seem to wind up with nothing more than thin wayward hairs waving against a background of muddy brown shadow.  Mocking me.

I used to have normal eyebrows  but I shaved them off.

It was the seventies.   Thin brows were de rigueur.  Cheryl Tiegs smiled down from my brother's wall with her naturally thin brows and tiny bikini, daring me to do something about the twin beards obscuring my vision.  First, I tried plucking them.   Turns out that ripping hair from your head hurts rather a lot, so I found an easier way.  I shaved them into shape.  Truth be told, I thought I might be a genius when I thought of that idea.  I've always heard that if you shave hair, it grows back  thicker and darker, which would have set me up beautifully for the thick untamed brow of the eighties.  Not so in my case.  My eyebrow hair hopped on the cosmic  highway and must have hitchhiked to somewhere it felt more welcome.  Possibly Brooke Shield's house.  The end of my sad story is that eventually most of my brows disappeared and I have no earthly idea of what to do with the remains.

Someone needs to bring the seventies back.  Who's in?

Chicken out

Nice brows, Cheryl, very nice