My sister has awesome porn star eyebrows (her words, not mine). She can raise one eyebrow in a super feminine way, as if to say “I don’t believe you, dahling.”
She also regularly pokes fun at me because I don’t get my own eyebrows waxed. I don’t even tweeze. I know, it’s practically a crime against my gender. But last night I had a free facial and eyebrow wax from a local place (American Beauty by Rose) run by Rose, a 77 year old quirky woman with an amazing life story. At any rate, I announce during dinner that I was headed out that evening. “Where are you going?” inquired my daughter, between bites of her quesadilla. “For a free facial and eyebrow wax,” I sighed, already imagining the heavenly massage and soothing steam blowing on my face. “What’s that?” she wanted to know. “Oh, it’s where a lady puts creams and lotions on your face, and massages you and…” “No, what’s an eyebrow wax?”
That was trickier to answer without sounding like I was subjecting myself to torture. “Well. It involves hot wax and the same lady then rips your eyebrow hairs off…but then you look really beautiful when it’s all over,” I trailed off lamely as my daughter’s own eyebrow shot up in a pretty good imitation of her aunt’s. I sighed. She then told me in no uncertain terms: “That makes no sense at all.”
I can’t exactly argue with her, but I do admit that the whole facial was lovely and relaxing. And my husband agreed with only the slightest hint of sarcasm, “You look like a new woman.” I’ll take it!