Curiosity DID NOT Kill the Baby... (Yet)

I realized one morning, while talking to Ethan Schiller, that I needed to get my eyebrows waxed. He spoke about the unnatural feeling of a completely smooth “diampol” (the word I used to describe the area above your nose, and between your eyebrows… the space where people are afflicted by the rugged stubble known as the “uni-brow”). Obviously curious, I reached my hand up to my own forehead and touched the area I’ve dubbed “diampol”. There was fluff. Just a little, normal for a girl who occasionally, though very infrequently, plucks stray hairs around her eyebrows. I showed Ethan my problem and he nodded with understanding, and then frowned and said, “you should probably wax that.” He probably wasn’t serious. He didn’t seem like one of the world’s biggest proponents of waxing, in fact, he said it “sucked”. He kept on repeating that it felt unnatural and I didn’t know why he even put himself through something so dreadful.

So I don’t really know how we ended up going to the grocery store and buying a facial hair waxing set. My dad always calls me his little “scientist” because I have a somewhat dangerously curious spirit. I was the girl that stole a sip of her father’s beer when she was 4 years old because she wanted to see why daddy got to drink that yummy german soda. I knew I wasn’t supposed to do it, but that didn’t stop me. My dad turned to flip the shish kabobs on the grill and I stole a swig. I immediately spit it all over my dad's jeans. Of course, my parents think it’s funny now… but I’m sure they considered getting my brain checked out the first time I tried to “escape” my house when I was just a year and a half. My mom found me slowly waddling down the sidewalk towards the neighbor’s house. When she caught up to me she heard me murmuring “chat” (the French word for cat) over and over again. My mommy momentarily forgot how angry she was with me and congratulated me on my brilliant use of a new word, one that she had undoubtedly been repeating to me for the past several weeks in hopes of me becoming a proficient French speaker, like herself.

Waxing my eyebrows was a terrible idea. I would never recommend it for anyone. I don’t even think it worked. It just hurt like hell! I stood in the kitchen with a towel between my teeth so I wouldn’t scream as he ripped the waxed cloth off my forehead. The towel didn’t stop a few audible grunts and curses from escaping my mouth, nor did the wax seem to have any affect on the “afflicted” area. I still had that fuzz.

I don’t regret it though. I had fun. I suppose I can say it was an adventure. You see, now I know what waxing my eyebrows is like. I will never be lured into the trap of eyebrow waxing by a pushy salon lady or my friends trying to “help” me out. Nope. See, I had experimented and found a conclusion. I don’t like waxing my eyebrows.

So, the next time someone offers you a bottle of facial hair wax, think back to this blogpost and understand that you have two options: 1. You can take my word for it and believe me when I say it’s a worthless pain in the ass, or… 2. You could just try it and be a scientist yourself.

ALL UP TO YOU DUDE!