Yes. You read that right. My name is Michelle, and I am missing half an eyebrow. My right one, to be exact.
I had planned so many other posts. Like say, the one about how I moved to Arizona and told practically no one outside of my office.
Because I hate goodbyes. And also, because I got a little deflated (read: horribly depressed) from hearing about how I was making possibly the worst decision ever.
But now I have proof that all of those naysayers (who I know, happen to love me very much and just didn’t want to see me go), were WRONG.
Because, friends, the worst decision ever happened today, when I went to a salon around the corner and blindly had my eyebrows waxed. Off my face.
Did I yelp it first to see if they were any good? No.
Did I think that *maybe* there might be something amiss, when they had an opening at 5 on a Friday? No.
Nor did I stop when I was lead to a hair washing station for said waxing. Or when I felt the butcher get wax in my hair, and try to play it off.
What’s crazier is that I did all of this after using the same AMAZING person to do my eyebrows for thirteen years. I trusted this person weeks before my wedding, and followed her to three salons. Never once did I end up with wax in the hair on my head. Not once did I end up with half an eyebrow.
I’m wondering if I should get some of that infomercial spay on hair for my face. Hair club for women missing half an eyebrow? Or maybe an eye patch.Every day could be Halloween. I could pretend I’m a sexy pirate. Instead of a cyclops.
And because I’m really feeling the self loathing, here is a picture of the aftermath.
Later, people. I’ve got to find some really large bug eyed sunglasses. And an eye patch. And maybe a fuzzy head warmer ala Vanessa from the Cosby Show.