Monday, October 21, 2013

The Hair is There for a Reason

You may not believe this, but I was kind of a late bloomer when it comes to "doing girl things." Try as she might, my mother could not spend enough money on makeup to make me actually wear it. I remember going to multiple "makeovers" at the Clinique counter and having ladies wearing grease-paint masks say to me, "oh yeah, I know exactly what you're saying," when I begged them to make me look "natural."

The truth is, I begged my mother to let me wear makeup, until she actually said yes. It wasn't until I started wearing makeup that I noticed how much time I spent putting it on in the morning and how haggard it made me look by the end of the day, when I was flirting with the boys outside the band hall. It was a waste of my time.

But this blog isn't about makeup. You read the title. Oh no. It's about EYEBROWS.

I recently saw a brilliant commercial for Rice-Crispies, one of the only cereal splurges I was allowed as a child (ONLY CHEERIOS), that made me want to eat all the Rice-Crispies:


I realize I just advertised for Rice-Crispies, and they aren't giving me a dime, but it's almost Christmas, and you guys are going to buy it by the boat-load anyway. So shut up.

This was how I felt about people that plucked their eyebrows. Why? WHY?????? Why spend time every day making yourself miserable when there aren't even enough hours in the day to do the actual things that you WANT to do?

I actually prided myself in my motto: If it grows there, it's supposed to be there!

I can't say why I changed my mind and started plucking, but I did. Maybe it had something to do with the pictures I was churning out:

Like this one from Junior High

Or this one from High School at the Dallas Zoo with my friends from Choir:


Or this one FROM MY SENIOR PROM:


Guys. I didn't even pluck my eyebrows for my own prom. 

And you know what: I had fun, AND I turned out okay. How? 

First, I started caring A LOT about what people thought of me. Then, I hated myself. After that, I thought I looked like a boy, and I TRIED to pluck my eyebrows, but it hurt and I hated it. Then, I asked my mom to wax them for me, and she got scared when it was time to pull the wax off, and kept grabbing at it all scared like and sucking in air through her teeth like she could feel my pain. I have never asked her to do it since. Then, I got them waxed at a salon for $5. Then, I started to have fun with makeup...don't know how that happened either...maybe it's when I started wanting boys to like me. I still thought I was ugly, though. BOO HOO. 

Now, I pluck when I need to, even though I know that no one REALLY notices, except for those girls that are self-conscious enough to find pleasure in pointing out what they don't like about other people. And for you ladies that feel you need to do that, I say, go for it. Use me. I don't care. Because, actually, I don't. I pluck my eyebrows for myself. I wear makeup for myself (and because there are no rules in makeup...but that is another blog that I PROMISE I will write). I don't think I'm ugly any more. I kind of think I'm smokin' hot. I could be wrong. It's okay. 

Do what you want, kiddos. It's your face. And don't let Hamlet tell you you're crazy for wearing makeup or plucking your eyebrows. That guy was CRAY, and everyone died at the end of that play. If you don't want to pluck, just say what I say, "the hair is there for a reason," and if someone argues with you, buy them a drink, give them a high five, and let it be. 




3 comments:

Liz said...

One time, in the park, a bird pooped on my forehead and it sort of slid down my forehead. Then my eyebrow stopped it.

So yeah, keep those.

caroline allen said...

I heart you, Liz.

Martha Lois said...

Plucking hurts. Waxing hurts. What we do for beauty. Perceived beauty. Love!