The Case of the Missing Eyebrow

Before I share this little gem, I’d just like to plainly state that next to my own children, those of my family and friends are the most charming and adorable children in the world. Just like Lake Wobegon. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for these above average children.

 

So when I received a text late last night from one of my dearest friends, telling me that her eleven year old son shaved off half of his eyebrows, of course I offered to help. Which is why my bewildered husband found me in the kitchen this morning, drawing eyebrows on an embarrassed young man. Ok, not “drawing” per se, as that makes it sound like I was making him into one of those women who look like they have commas stenciled on their foreheads. No, I was using my favorite Maybelline brow powder to make it look like he still had eyebrows. When I asked him what on earth possessed him to do that, he said, “I don’t know, I thought they were too long.”

 

I can’t fault the kid. I remember being about his age when I decided I didn’t like the hair on my upper lip. Now, my mother wouldn’t allow me to shave my legs, so there’s no way she was going to take me for a waxing. Before you ask, yes, it was really necessary, as my ethnic heritage includes both Puerto Rican and Italian, and they’re not known for their fair, delicate women. Oh no, they’re a hairy bunch. So, adolescent me looked in the mirror and thought, “I’ll just shave that right off.” Managed to cut myself right at the top of my lip, and it bled like hell. I was running around like a chicken with no head (and seemingly bleeding as much as one) and trying to figure out what to do. Eventually I called my mother at work, and gave some half assed excuse for how it happened, and told her it wouldn’t stop bleeding.

 

Later in life, I made friends with the nice lady at the salon who handles the waxing.