I go into the special back room. Which kinda has you creeped out a little because who knows what’s lurking in that back room. In those mystery jars and containers.
And the beauty technician’s eyebrows are sorta extra skinny and you don’t want to hurt her feelings by saying, “Could you please not make mine skinny and weird like yours?” because you know that extra skinny brows will make you look a little crazy and obsessive. So you say, simply, “I’d like to keep them full but a little bit shaped and cleaned up.” Then, you wonder if you’ve given enough direction for her to proceed. You hope for the best.
Her story telling is ill-timed. When I’m lying captive on the bed of doom, the beauty technician tells me that her eyebrows are actually shaved and she has tattooed them on.
I mean, would YOU trust a beauty technician whose eyebrows are shaved and tattooed on?
At that point, she has already lathered on the hot wax. And I am
hoping praying that she isn’t taking off too much. Or, whoopsidaisy, the whole brow. I make mental plans to schedule an appointment with the local tattoo artist asap to tattoo on a pair of perfect brows. I’m doomed.
She hands me the mirror for me to self-assess. I take a deep breath.
And, well, let’s just say that I won’t be taking any pictures of myself for awhile.