Living in Paradise

Raised Eyebrows

Raised Eyebrows

My friend Candace texted me the other day and asked if I wanted to take the eyebrow master class with her.

Does she think I need it? Maybe cooking classes or how to improve your writing. But eyebrows?

I think my eyebrows look pretty good. I spend at least four minutes, some days more, filling in the blank spots and getting them to arch just perfectly. Not too matchy-matchy. That doesn’t look natural, a cosmetic lady once told me and her words stuck.

The eyebrow over my left eye has receded somewhat, so it requires more attention. It also has a bushy patch in the center that likes to sprout one long, dark hair. I have to keep my eye on it. No pun intended.

My friend’s question took me back to the picture I have of my teen-age self. I had very bushy brows and a large nose. With those features, how did I ever have a date? (All those years later, I still don’t care for my nose.)

I’m not sure when I discovered the tweezer, a handy device that also works well on chin hairs these days. All I know is that over the years I have been obsessed with eyebrows and what the fashion trends say they should look like. Seems that I’m one among many. The Internet says that $164 million is spent globally each year on eyebrow make-up.

As a kid, I recall being frightened by Joan Crawford’s eyebrows, especially the ones she sported in later years. They were big, dark and arched, giving her a particularly menacing appearance. I read someplace that she plucked her eyebrows so frequently when she was younger that she had artificial ones made out of mink that she glued in place.

Not sure if that was true. But whatever resided in the upper quadrant of her face did not look natural.

When Brooke Shields became popular her eyebrows were quite the topic.  Girl, get those plucked I remember thinking. And Martin Scorsese’s bushy headers are as legendary as some of his films. I tried emulating Sophia Loren’s brows back in the day but could never duplicate her look – for a lot of reasons.

Eyebrows occasionally work their way into our conversation at home, as in “Did Dianna trim your eyebrows when she cut your hair?” My man nods. “And nose and ear hair?” Another nod that doesn’t have the ring of truth. In reality, he doesn’t know or care.

After Candace asked me about the master class, I said to my man: “Do you think my eyebrows look okay?” He squinted, pushing his brows together. “I guess so. I can’t see them because they are hidden by your glasses.” And I’m a man and don’t care about those things.

The learned folks at MIT say that eyebrows have a purpose, which is helping us to identify each other. I guess that’s only if you leave them natural. They also protect our vision. Mine does seem to be going south, along with my eyebrows.

I have never been much of an eyebrow-raiser. Although I used to have a friend, JoAnn, that often communicated with me through her eyebrows. Strange but I always knew what she was trying to tell me. Especially when she stopped talking to me after my divorce.

Eyebrows aside, my preferred method of facial communication is and always has been the eye-roll. It requires no make-up and speaks volumes.



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