As a general rule, anything done in the bathroom is not meant to be a family affair. However, in our family some things done in the little room that boasts its own throne can actually bring the family together. Waxing your eyebrows happens to be one of them.
One wants to look their best for Thanksgiving after all.
It’s embarrassing to admit but my son Garret was the first one to introduce waxing at home to our family. He is either too cheap to have it done professionally or wants to keep his screams of agony purely for our family’s entertainment.
Thus it happens, that on waxing his chest and eyebrows day, it’s not uncommon for Kristjana, Briana and Ariana to stand in line and let him do their eyebrows.
Apparently it’s a talent he has developed and saves them money. I won’t let him near mine. I don’t think he knows what to do with floppy lids.
The other day, I walked into my bathroom and Ariana was attempting to wax her own eyebrows. Her nine-year old son was in there bonding with her.
It’s now officially a multi-generational affair. With any luck it could hit the airwaves and become a reality TV show.
I felt slighted to be left out of the bonding experience, especially since the fuzz was a little thick around my eyebrows too.
Ariana had her own lime green micro waved wax and not only is it messy but it creates a ‘little green man from mars’ look.
I dipped the wooden stick into the wax and smeared it underneath my eyebrows.
“Mom, you have to put this cream on first or you can’t get the wax off.”
“You couldn’t tell me before I used it?” I grabbed at the wax under my eyebrow with my fingers and stuck a hunk of it onto my eyebrow.
I don’t know about your eyebrows but mine are pretty sparse and I can’t afford to sacrifice a single one. I growled and grabbed my tweezers to try and flick it off. It wouldn’t flick. I’d have to worry about it later.
Kaden was watching and trying to be helpful. “Grandma you have to wipe the wax off the stick or it will get wrecked.” Since when did he become such a pro?
I grabbed the stick to remove the wax. It smeared all over my hands and wouldn’t come off. Great!
Ariana saw me trying to rub the wax off. “Good luck with that mom,” she laughed. The next moment she cursed. “Crap, I got wax on my eyelash. What do I do now?”
“Good luck with that dear.” I dipped the stick into the wax and was careful to get only a tiny bit. I pulled it under my eyebrow and went in for another dip. This one went above my brow, one more time for the other eye.
“Grandma, you got wax on your forehead.”
Ariana stopped trying to tweeze the wax from her eyelashes to look at me and burst out laughing.
“Mom you’re supposed to wax your eyebrows not your forehead and you have the wax half way down your eyelids. Your eyebrows don’t grow there.”
“I have fuzz OK. I was afraid to get to close. My eyebrows are an endangered species. They might not grow back. At least I didn’t get them in my eyelashes.”
By the time we were done I lost a hunk of eyebrow and Ariana yanked her eyelashes out and has a bald spot. Both of us are thankful we still have some facial hair remaining.
Some things are worth paying the $10 for.