mirror, mirror on the wall

It is funny, how our minds work.  Without fail, ever since I read my friend, Darcie’s post last year, about how a simple eyebrow wax went terribly wrong, I can’t lay down on the waxing table without thinking of her fiasco.

 

As I close my eyes in preparation for the hot wax to be spread across my brow, her words float across my mind.  I always send up a silent prayer to the beauty gods that I will leave the nail salon unscathed.  My prayers have worked.  That is until Wednesday.

 

I was planning on waiting to get my brows looked after on Friday morning.  After all, I was off from work, and I figured that it would be the perfect time for a little beauty pick-me-up.  But, as I drove past the nail salon Wednesday evening, and noticed that I managed to make it there before their closing time, I couldn’t resist stopping in.  After all, my eyebrows were so neglected that my new unibrow was scaring me!

 

I was immediately ushered into the back and the lady that always does my waxing went to work.  It seemed to have taken longer than usual, but I wasn’t concerned, not really.  After all, I knew I had a forest on my forehead.  I just tried to relax and put Darcie out of my overworking mind. 

 

Unlike all the times before, when the woman was finished with the wax, she didn’t hand me a mirror to check out her handy work.  A little synapse fired off in my brain… Didn’t that happen to Darcie?  But, I didn’t stress over it.  I discounted my fear… After all, it was late.  The salon was closing. The woman just wanted to save the time and go home to her family.

 

I paid for my wax, and went into my car to drive home.  I pulled down the sun visor and glanced in the mirror and I saw it.  One eyebrow was perfect.  The other, was so over worked that it was crooked, making me look like I was raising it in that look of shock or confusion.   I blinked my eyes in rapid succession, trying to erase the vision.  Maybe I was doing it….  I relaxed and looked again.  Nope.  One eyebrow was totally arched up.

 

Since there was no excess hair to remove, fixing wasn’t an option, so I drove home.  My husband, Marc, was sitting in the den when I arrived, Alex the cat on his lap, sipping a glass of wine.  After a quick kiss hello, I commanded him to look at me.

 

“Oh, you had your work done,” he said in a casual, nonchalant way.

 

“Yeah,” I answered.  Anger and panic seeping through my tone, “and look what they did!”

 

Marc peered in for a closer look.  “What?”  He questioned.

 

“My eyebrow!  Look what she did.  It is totally crooked and I look like I am in shock.”

 

“Hmm,” Marc muttered as he nodded his head.  “You are right, but I wouldn’t have noticed it if you didn’t point it out to me.”

 

The night passed.  As Marc and I were getting ready for bed, I started staring at my reflection in the mirror, disgusted.  “Look at this!”  I commanded.

 

And Marc did.  “You know, if you didn’t keep telling me how bad your brow looks, I wouldn’t even realize there is a problem.  But, if you keep reminding me about it, you bring my attention to the fact that it is crooked, and then I see it.  So, maybe you should try to forget it…”

 

As always, I hate to admit it… He has a point….

 

Do you see yourself the same way others see you, or are you focused on your perceived flaws?

 

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