Wax On, Wax Off....

Earlier this week I finally gave up on my feeble attempts to pluck my eyebrows instead of getting them waxed. I guess I used to have a better grip on my personal grooming limitations: I used to joke that if I was asked in a job interview what my weaknesses were I would promptly answer "bowling and eyebrow maintenance." Yes, some of us are just born with bushy or uni-brows and without the inborn coordination to maintain them on our own. My hands, while coordinated enough at fine-motor activities like playing the piano, are pretty much incapable of managing two neatly plucked brows. My right eye isn't a big deal, but my left eye (where I have to reach across my nose to pluck) never ends up looking right. But I didn't think this was actually noticeable to others.

I popped in the beauty salon where I typically would get my brows waxed before I determined that waxing was a silly waste of money that I could easily forgo with a little effort on my part. The lady took me back to the waxing room (which is disturbingly decorated with a picture of mostly-naked Asian lady sitting inside a giant orange --with giant swaths of larger-than-life orange peel covering her in all the necessary places). I laid down and she examined my eyebrows. She immediately pointed to my problematic left eyebrow. She eyed it disapprovingly and said, "What happen dis one?" Embarrassed, I admitted that I had tried plucking it myself. She clicked her tongue at the apparent huge bald spot in my eyebrow and commented, "You no do that. You have problem, come to me; I take care of it."

I guess some things are just worth the $10.