Until recently, I’d never let anyone touch them. I’d touched them myself, many times. My friend taught me how way back when I was 12. Nevertheless, I just wasn’t ready to put them in any one else’s hands.
I am, of course, talking about my eyebrows.
For over a decade of my life, I have been plucking my eyebrows. Yet ever since a friend accidentally had one of her eyebrows waxed off in the 7th grade, I haven’t let a soul near my precious little face monsters. After all, a bad haircut is easy to disguise. But a bad brow appointment can be a long-lasting disaster.
Lately, though, I haven’t been content with them. I realized after I wrote about hating my eyebrows in their natural state, that I didn’t really enjoy their current state either. My constant fear of over-plucking made it so that really, I was leaving them bushier than I liked. And though I had no idea how to fix it, I could just tell that they weren’t symmetrical.
One thing was clear, though. Everyone I meet who has amazing eyebrows has them threaded. Every time I compliment someone on their impeccable brows they tell me they just had them threaded, or just discovered an amazing new threading salon. So when I’d finally had enough plucking my brows, finding myself unable to fix or even articulate what I hated about them, I realized I needed to take the plunge. I put down my tweezers and decided to grow these bad boys out so I could start fresh. It was time to give someone else the reins. It was time to be brave for beauty.
A couple of weeks of wearing glasses later (to shield my growing hairs), it was time. I spent hours on Yelp trying to find a place I could really trust to fix my brows without fucking them up. I read countless reviews until I found a salon with 5 stars and many comments ensuring that the women who worked there actually loved eyebrows—and wouldn’t reduce mine to 90’s chic.
So I went. The salon was simple and unpretentious, and when I confessed to the threader that it was my first time, she didn’t condescend. She simply put a mirror in front of my face and said “Tell me, what kind of shape are you hoping for?” All I could really must was “Not fugly,” but she laughed knowingly, and promptly went to town.
It felt like she was ripping out all of my eyebrows, and panic overtook me. It didn’t hurt, but it felt like more hairs were being removed than could possibly look good. When she finally finished, though, I was surprised. They still had their integrity. They were just symmetrical. And not as bushy.
In fact, my whole face looked different—remarkably better. There’s a quote from The Princess Diaries that says “If eyes are the windows to the soul, then eyebrows are the curtains.” I had just traded in my mediocre IKEA curtains for some gorgeous bespoke ones. Naturally I’ve since felt more confident. But the best part of taking the risk, putting my brows in a professional’s care, is that for a mere $7, I can buy something immensely luxurious: not having to worry about my face looking symmetrical.