My thick, unruly, "Oh, you waxed me? Let me sprout back forth in record time!" eyebrows.
I went to get an eyebrow wax today, and while I was having hot wax slathered and then ripped off my face, I reflected back on my long and illustrious eyebrow-waxing history. Some fun facts:
--I've been regularly waxing my brows since high school. If you figure I've averaged a wax a month since then (more frequently these days, less so in college when my very limited disposable income was more likely to go towards beer and *gasp* fake tanning), that's 192 delightful dates on the waxing table. So, I've probably spent somewhere around $3K getting hair ripped off my face.
--I play a little game of over/under each time I go in. How long will it take the waxer to say "My, what thick eyebrows you have!" or some variation thereof? It's not a question of if. It always happens. My favorite variation: "Your eyebrows are like tree trunks!" No shit!
--It is a big, giant, liar-liar-pants-on-fire myth that waxing hurts less the more you do it. If anything, it hurts MORE. Particularly when a cocktail of IVF drugs is running through your veins. (Hey, I may be infertile, but I wasn't about to add the indignity of a unibrow to my list of woes.)
I know, I know, I should be happy that I'll never have to use an eyebrow pencil to draw brows on. And the thick eyebrows come with nice things like thick hair (which, unfortunately, grows EVERYWHERE and creates a variety of other grooming dilemmas). But I hope that 16 years from now, I'm not giving my daughter the old "Oh, honey, it won't hurt at all after the first time" line. At least not about waxing!
The upside of the day is that I did get myself a fine pedicure, the results of which can be seen at right. So it wasn't all bad.
Now excuse me while I go put a bag of frozen peas on my throbbing forehead.