Farewell Eyebrows and Dignity

Nothing like submitting yourself to the torture that we label self care, and have to tip for the extra jovial insults that just don’t quite make it across that language and culture barrier. Yes, that’s right folks, today I got my eyebrows waxed.

It wasn’t the first time I have had my brows thinned and plucked, nor was it the first time I have been oh so gently insulted while having hot wax applied to my face and ripped out the hair by the roots. It’s no wonder why I have it done maybe once every two years at best.

The first time was when I was in California. My friend was on the other side of the half wall from the waxing room where she could hear the gentle soothing sounds of ripping flesh and my skin screaming, when she heard the lady say to me, “Oh, you have very hairy face.” The next sound I heard was the ripping of what was left of my upper right eye lid, followed by the petite giggle of my friend busting a gut on the other side of the half wall.



So fast forwarding into today’s festivities… and that’s what they were. My girlfriend and I decided today was a day of celebration and self care, and off to the Mani/Pedi department AKA nail shop in the strip mall next to the Starbucks. You all know it, everyone has one. It was the usual; pick a color sit in the glorious massage seats as you soak our feet in heavenly hot water. It was wonderful, as long as I kept my eyes on the mural in front of us. Otherwise, I would feel guilty when I looked at the small little woman, scrubbing my feet that were the size of her entire arm. I felt like I was breaking some child labor laws… no one that size should have to scrub feet the size of my clod hoppers. Eyes forward, heaven awaits. Pretty feet, pretty toes and nails are on the way.

Half way through my manicure the poor girl obviously can’t handle it another moment. “We do your eyebrows, huh.” She finally mutters out. Mind you the woman has said nothing to me up until this moment, even when I was giggling wildly and pausing barely to take a breath when she was scrubbing my feet. That elicited no reaction, but my eyebrows were now apparently her nemesis. I could hear the doomsday music looming in the background as I followed her to the torture chamber, AKA the waxing room.




I am no stranger to this, and brace myself as she blows on the wax before placing it on my eyelid. “Thin, yes?” NO… I have Brook Shields eyebrows, think thick! She rips off the strip of wax which was indeed hot enough that I am sure it killed off anything she might have blown into it with her high tech cooling process and she starts telling me…”Look. Look!” I am doing my best to unglue my eye lid and open my eyes to see what must be my entire eyebrow hanging from the strip buried in yellow wax. With each strip she applies and rips, I can’t help it but my body jumps in reaction. “Everything scare you.” She says slightly disgusted. Wow, imagine that ripping out my hair with hot plastic cow byproducts feels unnatural to me; Yeah, I guess I am a bit jumpy.

As she’s starting on my left eye, she’s just starting to get plain giddy now. This was the comment that earned her the big tip. “Your eyebrows are just out of control,” she says. “It’s kinda fun to work on.” Yeah baby, it’s just not a wonder why I don’t do this more often.

However, when I got out, my girlfriend started raving about how great my eye brows looked, saying I looked younger, like I had a face lift, that they were fantastic thin… and I realized at this point, wow… my eyebrows really were also the bane of her existence as well. I never realized my brows were so offensive. Imagine my success if someone would have told me earlier, it’s not skinner or smarter people with more money… it’s all about the brows. Oh, the jobs I could have had; the millionaire I could have married… only had I known the precious ring was really hot wax and tweezers! I’m curious to know what life of luxury I would have if I started waxing the southern regions, taming those jungles and mowing the lawn. I’m sure Hollywood would be calling and I’d be living with some old dude and blond bombshells in a mansion.





Now I am off to put on my shape up shoes, Reebok toner pants, push up bra and wax something important so I can be beautiful on the inside.

Crazy Professor

I had a professor at Cal State Hayward, now which is Cal State East Bay to which they changed their name in an effort to attract more of the international crowd, who used to insist that our emotions caused weather patterns.



Yes, it has been some years, as you would know if you knew the original name of the college, but I promise you this professors theories sounded just as hair brained then, as they did now. However, I can see how human emotions pull a strong correlation to the weather and natural disasters. Perhaps when we see Japan falling under siege to a Tsunami, it puts us on alert for those emotions and we then play those out in our lives. So when nuclear disaster is pending on the outskirts, we turn to our relationships and act as if the same type of meltdowns are going to occur.

I have done no research, and I have not even fully thought though my own theories on the subject, but suddenly in taking stalk of my own experiences, this professor doesn't seem like such a half wit to at least recognize a correlation as he once did.



Here is Jersey, the seas are calm and Tsunami free, but destruction of friendship and marriages, neighbors and family seem to be hitting the shores under the destruction of stress, economy, gossip, love lost and poor decisions. Even the best intentions are under scrutiny as no one is safe and everyone is seeming to feel alone on an island. Someone needs to pour water on all our emotional nuclear reactors.

It's pretty unlike me, the budding professional school counselor to pass along a sentimate such as this, but here is goes... So what!
Someone mentioned my name in conversation... so what! At least your husband didn't leave you. You got your feelings hurt, so what? At least you still have all your arms and legs and you aren't physically hurt. Seriously people, even if you don't want to step back and take a look at the bigger picture out across the sea, step back and look at the smaller one. Trust your friends and neighbors to know that they love you and have the best of intentions.

I cannot go around in this world thinking that people are anything other than good by nature. I cannot go around being wary of the million people who would help me in a heart beat, because one person might not. At the same time I no longer will let the feelings of other people count more than my own. As long as I am doing my best to be the best, and I believe the same of my friends, family and even aquaintences, all the rest falls into the abyss of so what! You were right professor, we create more than we account for ourselves.

Forgive and do yourself the favor to forget.

There are so many other things in life that will spin up into a Tsunami all on their own, let's not add to it by making our own tornadoes.

Emotional Me

What are you so emotional about? Who me? Yes... You! I'm not emotional. Then why are you crying to Boom Boom Pow by the Black Eye Peas?


(Maybe if it was "I got a Feeling" because that's one's a real tear jerker.)


Yes, it's a sad truth that this once hard as nails party animal has now been hormonally and situationally shifted into the weepy marshmellow in emotion and stature that now you see before you today.




Is this situation to be remedied? Will I ever get the "old" me back? I have heard a lot of my friend ask the same question as we all step though our life transitions and cling to our youth. "I used to be funny..." I tell my husband as one of my many jokes take one if it's many bombs. Do I miss the old me? Would I change if I could?




Not if you paid me.