Vanity will get you one eyebrow—less

Yes.  Most of my blog posting comes with utter truths of utter failures.

This one comes to you with the proclamation that I am also vain.

And that got me one eyebrow.

You know when you age?  Like, you know, are no longer 18.

It’s like chin hair pops up.  And out.

And, like, your baby belly never goes away.  But my daughter told me that my belly is squishy and comfy.  That makes it all alright, right?!

Do you remember a recent post I wrote about the horrifying “wax your mustache, madam?” ???????!!!!!!!

If you don’t, please click here.  It did not entertain me in the least (smile and wink).

Anyhow—I’m going to one up that cosmetician and post something FAR MORE HORRIFYING than mustache waxing…

And it all comes back to my eyebrows!

I say “back to” my eyebrows—because these eyebrows are ever so famous on this here blog…

If you don’t know the henna story, click here!

But let’s not dawdle on the past—it’s time I bring you present day…

To my one eyebrow.

So, I was looking in the mirror the other day.

When your children grow just old enough to let you actually shower and look in the mirror, that’s when you realize that you’re not only tired—but also…

(Insert My Big Fat Greek Wedding voice here)

“Getting old.”

Like, seriously, my eyebrows were crazy.

And I am seeing things.

Like going a bit senile.

I could SWEAR I saw some white hair.  I would like to say shiny silver…but my hair seems to be skipping that blending stage and heading for Santa Claus white.

And they were in the tip top portion of my forehead and on my eyebrows.

And they were sticking out…Like straight out.

I looked like I was heading towards the portrait of Groucho Marx, except living in Poland.  And being a woman.  And not being born in 1890—although my 10-year-old probably does think I was born WAY BACK THEN.

That is when brilliance struck me.  I didn’t want to waste precious and painful time plucking eyebrows—I would just use this super easy cosmetic razor and give them a little control zip.

So I dug it out and zipped…

That’s when I heard it.  It wasn’t the gentle hum of the razor guard.  It was the vicious roar of electrifying laughter shouting, “I’m going to get you eyebrows…zip.  Zip!”

And sure enough the razor won.  I lost.

An eyebrow, that is.

And so—I painted on eyebrows for weeks with the hilarious, tears rolling down your face, exclamations from my daughter—“Why are your eyebrows BLUE today???!!!”

I’ll tell you why, smart girl…because I never learned how to paint on eyebrows.

Or apparently groom at all…

Here’s to you and all of your crazy!  I’m here to make you feel normal and victorious each and every day!

***

And, go ahead…make your friend’s day.  Like and share.  My eyebrow can handle it!

Do you want to wax your mustache?????

Are you freaking KIDDING me?!

First I turn FORTY—as if that is NOT bad enough—and then I go to get my eyebrows waxed when the lady doesn’t seem to think that IT (turning 40) is FITTING enough–but now she must POINT OUT and ASK…

“ARE YOU ALSO HERE TO GET YOUR MUSTACHE WAXED????”

My laser eyes and deadly stare did NOTHING to hinder her from asking again, “AND YOUR MUSTACHE????”

I gasped as if I still have my 18-year-old glow and youth and not a STRAY whisker ANYWHERE on my face and answered her, “MY MUSTACHE????!!!!  I don’t have a mustache!!!!!”  And huffed loudly as I threw my awesome body (okay, lowered myself gently due to my aching back) onto the waxing lounge and pointed out that “I DO NOT, under any circumstances, WANT CRAZY TRENDY EYEBROWS!  JUST SIMPLE WAXING…please.”

Before I got off the chair, she, DAFT AS A…????  Well, who knows what—something daft… ASKED AGAIN, “Are you sure you don’t want the mustache waxed???”

Yes, LADY!  Very sure…

Right?

Or, I mean, do I have a mustache????

Go to mirror…

Peer closely…

Squint, really, since my eyes are not the best.

Still can’t see.  Turn glasses crooked on my nose so that I can see (all bi-focal style)…and re-peer.

Surely that is not a mustache, it’s simply glitter, right?!?!?!  A light glistening above my upper lip????

Right!

And, so with indignance, I walk PROUDLY out of that salon…

Mustache and all.

 

There is no magic to turning 40—just a good salon

There are no magic beans for growing older nor any fountain of youth.  And Tuck Everlasting taught us that, even if there was such, we should desire it not.

So I have succumbed to aging.

40 is nothing in today’s world—especially since 40 is the new 20, right?!  But, it’s not entirely true.

Forty is something.  It’s 40.  The big 4-0. The number that defines something monumental.  Your first half of life has passed.

Yes.  Today’s world is living longer.  Healthy.  Traveling.  Enjoying life…seeing many decades more than previous generations.

It’s amazing and I am so thankful.  It’s encouraging and makes me happy to know that I have a great chance to live so many decades more.

But 40 is still hitting me.

Take my eyebrows for instance.

You already know how famous they are 😉

But really, let’s come back to them.  My eyebrows—they grow—long.  Like old man long.

What????  I had no clue I would one day wake up, look in the mirror, and see an old man on my face.  Yet there he is, in my eyebrows.  Old man.

And nose hair.

And my chins.  It doesn’t matter that I’m not a large woman, my grandma chins are still there.

Why?

They are there for a reason.  They are my reminders that I am nearly 40.  And it is a milestone.  And it means something significant:  I am completing my first half of life.

And this brings me into a place of better perspective.  One that reminds me that life is precious and fleeting.  There is not anything we can do to stop or slow it.  So today is my day.  Today is your day.

Make the most of each day.

Even if that day involves a moment at a salon—artificially refreshing your youth 😉