So I have this thing about eyebrows. Mine are wicked uneven and it makes me look half surprised, half angry. So I regularly reel them in. But I’m cheap, so I do it myself. And I am not so hot at it.
I have a tendency to over-pluck.
And what’s weird, is that I know I’m doing it. There have been texts exchanged wherein I ask my friend Steph to stop m.e because I am going too far. Since I am 35 miles away she simply laughs at me.
So I keep going.
Until the crazy-eyed Joan Crawford wielding a coat hanger peers back at me from the bathroom mirror.
I really should admit that there are simply some things I can’t do.
But do I do that?
Nay, I do not.
Instead I see that Joan Crawford and raise you a mullet.
Except for the very back.
I can’t reach it.
So I am stuck looking like Joe Dirt. My husband will rescue me, after he laughs.
And after we return home from the first social gathering my hermit ass has engaged in for over a month.
I’ll be glad they get to see me at my best.