Last Friday, following my battle with not one, but two (!) flus, I determined that the eyebrows I had neglected for way too long had grown far enough down my face. Seriously they were atrocious. I tried to wear my bangs in my eyes a little bit extra in an attempt to hide my massive Hungarian eyebrows. The thought of plucking all that burliness by myself was overwhelming so I decided to go get them threaded after work. Being new to not only the Mid West, but the entire Chicagoland area, I had no idea where to go for such a procedure. At home I used to go to this little shop on Beach Boulevard in Huntington that specialized solely in threading so I was looking for something along those lines. I opened the Yelp app on my phone in hopes of finding a threading shop. The first return that came up was a hair salon that also did threading, but from the reviews it sounded a bit more upscale than I was willing to be seen in since my hair was in major Jewfro mode that day and I didn't feel like being judged for not only my heinous eyebrows, but my unkempt hair as well.
I remembered a little shop that had a sign for threading near where we rented the U-Haul when we moved so I drove over there in hopes that they were open until at least 7:00. Success! I walked into the shop, eager to have my eyebrows look civilized again. I scanned the shop and noticed that of the 7 people inside, I was the only one with XX chromosomes. It appeared that this particular establishment is most commonly frequented by men of the Middle Eastern variety. One of the men performing a haircut told me to have a seat in what I recognized as a threading chair after he asked me what I wanted done. I sat down and sent out about 5 texts to friends telling them of my interesting surroundings. I waited there for about 10 minutes before a lady came out from the back and said to me, "Eyebrows?", and I nodded yes.
Now, this is where I should have spoken up. I should have said something. But I didn't. When it comes to someone who is altering your appearance in some way, you should never assume they know exactly what you want. In this happenstance I figured it was blatantly apparent that my eyebrows needed to be rid of their overgrown appearance. Nothing more, nothing less. The shape was clearly there, they just needed some very obvious assistance in regrowth removal.
I leaned back, closed my eyes, and held my eyebrow area taut as I've learned to do in previous threading sessions. This lady must have been using some cheap thread because she broke it four times while she whittled away my robust brows. At the end she ran a cotton swab of some watery solution over my eyebrows and I was sad when there was no lotion-y massage as I had been accustomed to receiving in Huntington. That had always been my favorite part--three blissful minutes of magical fingers running over my angry, sensitive skin.
When she indicated that she was done and I sat up to see myself in the mirror, I can honestly say that I didn't recognize my face! This woman had taken it upon herself to not only remove all the regrowth, but about a third of my actual eyebrow as well! A third!!! I actually gasped when I saw my reflection. I was so sad and in shock that I quickly paid her and speed walked out to my car to stare at myself in my sun visor mirror with the bright lights where I then discovered that not only were my eyebrows significantly thinner than I like them to be, but she changed the shape of my curve as well. I started trying to think of ways to fix my eyebrows that didn't include makeup, but nothing came to mind. And I wanted to cry. I know it's just hair and it will grow back. But it was my hair, and I missed it.
I was so discombobulated, so disoriented, and in such a state of panic that I didn't turn on my GPS and I literally got lost for 15 minutes driving home on a street I've taken over three dozen times. I found a random highway, realized it was the wrong one as I pulled onto the on ramp but having no where to turn around I had to proceed through the 80 cent toll plaza to get off at the next exit, (grumble grumble) only to discover that I had to pay yet another 80 cent toll to get back on the highway to go the opposite direction. Fail. Way to add insult to injury. I know it was only $1.60 but when someone is lost, in a foreign state nonetheless, they shouldn't have to pay to turn around. Do you hear that, Illinois Tollway?!
Next time, I'll speak up. And use my GPS. Lessons learned.
Now, this is where I should have spoken up. I should have said something. But I didn't. When it comes to someone who is altering your appearance in some way, you should never assume they know exactly what you want. In this happenstance I figured it was blatantly apparent that my eyebrows needed to be rid of their overgrown appearance. Nothing more, nothing less. The shape was clearly there, they just needed some very obvious assistance in regrowth removal.
I leaned back, closed my eyes, and held my eyebrow area taut as I've learned to do in previous threading sessions. This lady must have been using some cheap thread because she broke it four times while she whittled away my robust brows. At the end she ran a cotton swab of some watery solution over my eyebrows and I was sad when there was no lotion-y massage as I had been accustomed to receiving in Huntington. That had always been my favorite part--three blissful minutes of magical fingers running over my angry, sensitive skin.
When she indicated that she was done and I sat up to see myself in the mirror, I can honestly say that I didn't recognize my face! This woman had taken it upon herself to not only remove all the regrowth, but about a third of my actual eyebrow as well! A third!!! I actually gasped when I saw my reflection. I was so sad and in shock that I quickly paid her and speed walked out to my car to stare at myself in my sun visor mirror with the bright lights where I then discovered that not only were my eyebrows significantly thinner than I like them to be, but she changed the shape of my curve as well. I started trying to think of ways to fix my eyebrows that didn't include makeup, but nothing came to mind. And I wanted to cry. I know it's just hair and it will grow back. But it was my hair, and I missed it.
I was so discombobulated, so disoriented, and in such a state of panic that I didn't turn on my GPS and I literally got lost for 15 minutes driving home on a street I've taken over three dozen times. I found a random highway, realized it was the wrong one as I pulled onto the on ramp but having no where to turn around I had to proceed through the 80 cent toll plaza to get off at the next exit, (grumble grumble) only to discover that I had to pay yet another 80 cent toll to get back on the highway to go the opposite direction. Fail. Way to add insult to injury. I know it was only $1.60 but when someone is lost, in a foreign state nonetheless, they shouldn't have to pay to turn around. Do you hear that, Illinois Tollway?!
Next time, I'll speak up. And use my GPS. Lessons learned.
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