Tweezing, Waxing or Threading….. These are the three options laid before me as I consider the best way to tame my run-away caterpillars into sleek and sexy looking brows. Tweezing just wasn’t going to work…. I have the world’s shakiest hands and I just don’t have a month to spare going cross-eyed in front of the mirror, blinding myself with sharp metal objects. This left waxing and threading.
I looked up waxing…. wax hot enough to melt the testicles off of Donatello’s bronze statue of David, placed directly onto my skin, less than an inch above my eyeball, left to dry and then ripped off with lightening speed by some sadistic beautician with a smirk on her face. Total lunacy.
I go with threading. It’s just string, what can go wrong?!
On booking my appointment I was advised that I should attend without having applied any make up to my eyes. Interestingly enough this annoyed me as make-up happens to be the one and only aspect of girlyishness that I am close to mastering, and proud of (more about that later). Nevertheless, I arrive bare faced as directed and take a seat in the beauticians chair. She’s a pretty looking girl with brows groomed to perfection…. ok….. they are AMAZING, even I’m impressed. I think I trust this chick.
Whilst prepping her thread she strikes up a conversation, which I assume must be obligatory in this profession, and asks if I’ve been to the salon before. “Erm….. no…. this is a first visit.” I refrain from admitting that I’ve never been to ANY salon before…. HANG ON… Am I embarrassed about that?! I think I am! Maybe I have an inner goddess screaming for release after all?
She tips my head back and tells me to hold my brows. What? Hold my brows? I stare at her clueless…… Am I meant to take them off and hand them to her for a trim? She politely smiles and places my fingers above and below my furry friends, instructing me to keep the skin taught.
She then approaches with her string arranged in a pretty impressive construction between her hands and teeth (did you ever play cats cradle at school? ) and takes her first smooth and precise swipe….
“OH HOLY S**TBALLS!!! YOU B**CH!”
Subconsciously I assure myself it’s ok… ‘it only hurts the first time’…
Another swipe assures me that this rule does NOT apply to loosing your threading virginity.
Despite jumping ten feet out of the chair, I succumb to this torture of epic proportions for a further 10 minutes until she calmly says, “Ok, I think we’re done” and stands back admiring her handy work. I glance at her with what can only be described as utter contempt.
Right…. let’s inspect the damage.I look at my red abused skin in the mirror. OUCH! But…. okay…my brows are bloomin’ awesome! Two perfectly defined sexy little masterpieces framing my hazel eyes. I like it. And the beautician is almost forgiven.
“Thank You for coming to Arch salon, see you again soon?!”
“I’ll think about it…..”
***In Loving Memory Of Creepy & Crawley R.I.P.***