No Brow, High Brow, Low Brow (Part 2)

I had applied the first of several doses of aloe to my burnt brow, and after a bit of cursing (and some lunch), I felt brave enough to venture out in the world.

After all, it was a beautiful day, and I could not pass up the possibility to explore the many nifty clothing stores of Newburyport. I hadn’t really had a reason before, and unlike many of my female counterparts, I don’t particularly care for shopping for shopping’s sake- except maybe for books. How I love books. But I digress…

So, I popped into one shop whose clothing I have been drooling over since Jeff and I first arrived in Newburyport. Well, everything I saw was indeed beautiful, but the prices were just plain ugly. I have realized since childhood that, as a tomboy, my clothes were bound to get dirty no matter how hard I tried to be neat and clean like all of the other girls/women. So, spending $100 or so for a skirt that probably wouldn’t last me more than a season or two seemed a bit silly. Sigh.

I tried the consignment shop next door. Great selection, great prices, but a new problem. When I tell you, you will probably sarcastically remark, “Oh, I wish I had that problem,” but here goes. I took a handful of dresses to the changing room in the size I last wore only to discover- dum, dum, dum- they were too large. Not enormous, just noticeably big. (Small) sigh again.

Fortunately, there was another consignment shop in town. Unfortunately, they were only seemed to carry items that were: overpriced (many were as much or more expensive than the new clothing store), dowdy (lots of weird floral patterns and shoulder pads), or weird (a pair of suede-like cords). That, and I seemed to have walked into the middle of an employee feud. I did not need additional scars or any of their odd clothing, and so I fled.

I explored a few other shops, but just could find whatever it was I was looking for. Perhaps I should have thought a little bit more about what I wanted, or been a little less picky. Maybe I should have learned how to pick out flattering attire sooner, and could be more confident in making important fashion-altering decisions.

Or maybe I just needed an excuse to buy more yarn. I picked up a couple of skeins from Jo-Ann fabrics today, and plan to knit myself a scarf to go with something I currently own. The scarf will make its debut at the party, but will end up going to charity. I will post pictures as soon as the many multi-colored scarves are finished. But I digress again…

No Brow, High Brow, Low Brow (Part 1)

My buddy “Hellboy” is tying the knot next month (!), and his parents are throwing a couple’s shower this weekend. In honor of this event (and frankly, because I was starting to look like a early Beatle- shaggy and thick-browed), I decided to get a haircut, brow wax, and buy myself some new duds.

First stop, a local salon. I had been there once before, and was impressed with the work done by the stylist. I had been even more impressed when she was genuinely amused at the picture I brought in for inspiration- Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby.

However, this time I had my own horror-inducing experience. Let me just preface by saying that I have never had a professional waxing of any kind. I did enlist the help of a friend (male) once to perform a very amateur wax of my legs, but it was so tramatic, I have never wanted to do it again. Until now.

We chatted a bit while she applied the first dribble of wax. “That seems a little warm,” I said. “Oh, sorry,” she replied.

She proceeded to rip out the offending cro-magnon-esque hairs from my brow in the appropriate fashion. As each section was pulled, I flinched a bit, and she smiled, admitting that she could only imagine how difficult it was going to be for her when she had hair removed from a slightly more sensitive location later that evening. Too much info perhaps, but it made me feel less wimpy.

Then she applied a cooling gel to my brows, but it felt like they were instead on fire. “Damn,” I thought, “I AM a wimp after all.”

While she skillfully cropped my hair ala Rosemary, I remarked that it looked like I was wearing bright pink eyeshadow. After the haircut was finished, I noticed that the area above my left brow was still quite red. Upon closer examination, I saw that there was a nice little burn line.

I pointed it out to her, and she and her supervisor both said, “Wow! That’s never happened before.” She apologized profusely, and thanked me for not getting angry. If I thought she did it intentionally, I might have yelled and screamed and inflicted bodily harm upon her. But, given that she didn’t charge me for the new “tough” puffy-eyed look, it didn’t seem necessary.

She called later to apologize again, and to offer suggestions for treatment.

At least she didn’t accidentally remove all of my brow…

Since When Did Web-Site Postings Count?

That’s what I’d like to know. Anna seems to think that merely telling everyone who reads our Web site (both of you) that I’m bribing her to write constitutes writing…

I’m not so certain I agree with that. But as I didn’t clarify my offer, I suppose I’ll have to live with it this week.

Next week is a different story…