I’m obsessed with getting my eyebrows waxed.
Yes, I think it’s taking the place of my impulsive hair -cutting habit.
A few months ago, right before Leila was born, I treated myself to a pre-birth manicure and pedicure. I decided to throw in the brow waxing while I was spending the big bucks. (Except it was Tuesday, Williamsburg friends, you know this value). So I head back to meet my “Brow-tician” (my word, not theirs) in the small room…and she berated my brows.
I supposed, I’d gotten a bit carried away with the tweezers of late. Look, it happens to the best of us.
Regardless, she declared she had never seen anyone “do that with their brows” and then launched into the infamous, fear-inducing (possibly mythical) caution of over-tweezing. “THEY WILL NEVER GROW BACK.”
She then proceeded to draw with a pencil, what my brows should look like, granted I never touch tweezers again and only go to her, and sent me on my way to preschool pick up (the only one there with penciled- in brows.)
I have a policy about being berated by beauty and healthcare professionals. I don’t go back. Am I the only one around here who believes in being celebrated when you show up for help?
But something has happened this time. I really like her and really really want her approval. So I show up like clockwork. I walk, with my mangled nails, past all the manicures and pedicures, straight into the waxing room, baby carrier in tow. And during this brow recovery phase I’ve discovered that brow waxing is kind of the perfect beauty fix for my life right now. It takes five minutes and costs seven dollars, and for a short time I, who dressed and sent my daughter out to school this week a day before school started, feel on top of things.
Happy Day before 3 Kings Day!
I, a shame to the Puerto Rican people, forgot that tonight we put out the shoeboxes…Gratefully, my grandfather gave Travis a can of Cien en La Boca for Christmas, and the camels know the way to Wawa.