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Then one eyebrow became two: two dark black eyebrows.
I didn’t find my first white lash until about 20 years ago when I was 60.
I was horrified and instead of acknowledging that I was just growing older, I went to see if I could have my eyebrows dyed.
There wasn't much use, the cosmeticians said, since there was only one white eyebrow, which would be easier to pluck than to dye.
I left it out at that until about five years ago when I found another white eyelash. This time I approached the -up clerk at London Drugs and asked her to pick out an eyebrow pencil for me. She chose a charcoal one and before ringing it through the till she said, “Why are you doing this, you don't really need it. Most people would die to have eyebrows like yours.”
Now it's COVID-19 times, and I am conscious that the only thing people really see about the face are the eyes. So, I have been looking at my eyebrows again, deciding it's the least I can do since as soon as I put the mask on there is nothing left on my face to enhance. Gone is lip gloss. Gone are the earrings since one of them keeps dropping off due to that elastic slipping on and off of my ear lobe. I lost one earing this morning before I had even had breakfast, and that is with no mask.
So back to enhancing my eyebrows. Not that they need it, but it seemed the least I could do to beautify that top quarter of my forehead. I thought nothing about it really.
About two months ago Bonnie bent over to me and said I can't believe your eyebrows are still black. When are they going to turn grey?”
Not knowing she was serious, and thinking she was teasing me, I flippantly said, “When I'm ninety.”
I no idea that she didn't know I was already touching them up. She began to sing the my praises to others, as in, “My mom's eyebrows are still black and she says they aren't going to turn grey until they're 90.” I thought she would drop the subject of black eyebrows after a few iterations. But she kept reporting it to others until it became like the Bernie Saunders Mitten Meme: everywhere.
I felt the need to make the truth of the feathered black marks in my eyebrows explicit to her, which I did.
She looked at me horrified, somewhat like when a child learns there is no Santa Claus.
We’ve had many conversations since centering on truth in the moment as opposed to what I thought was mutual satire.
I left it out at that until about five years ago when I found another white eyelash. This time I approached the -up clerk at London Drugs and asked her to pick out an eyebrow pencil for me. She chose a charcoal one and before ringing it through the till she said, “Why are you doing this, you don't really need it. Most people would die to have eyebrows like yours.”
Now it's COVID-19 times, and I am conscious that the only thing people really see about the face are the eyes. So, I have been looking at my eyebrows again, deciding it's the least I can do since as soon as I put the mask on there is nothing left on my face to enhance. Gone is lip gloss. Gone are the earrings since one of them keeps dropping off due to that elastic slipping on and off of my ear lobe. I lost one earing this morning before I had even had breakfast, and that is with no mask.
So back to enhancing my eyebrows. Not that they need it, but it seemed the least I could do to beautify that top quarter of my forehead. I thought nothing about it really.
About two months ago Bonnie bent over to me and said I can't believe your eyebrows are still black. When are they going to turn grey?”
I no idea that she didn't know I was already touching them up. She began to sing the my praises to others, as in, “My mom's eyebrows are still black and she says they aren't going to turn grey until they're 90.” I thought she would drop the subject of black eyebrows after a few iterations. But she kept reporting it to others until it became like the Bernie Saunders Mitten Meme: everywhere.
I felt the need to make the truth of the feathered black marks in my eyebrows explicit to her, which I did.
She looked at me horrified, somewhat like when a child learns there is no Santa Claus.
We’ve had many conversations since centering on truth in the moment as opposed to what I thought was mutual satire.
That is what adults do when they need to patch up their relationship. And in fact, the subject just had to go “off-limits” for a while.
Yesterday at the end of our telephone conversation on other matters, she asked me if I would hold still for a minute while she drew a short sketch of me.
Yesterday at the end of our telephone conversation on other matters, she asked me if I would hold still for a minute while she drew a short sketch of me.
I was still. She quickly she sketched in the scarf which I wear around my head to keep my hair back out of my face. She sketched in my neon black glasses. One eyebrow is in its correct place, the other floating off my face and into space.
That serves me right.
Arta
I like this post. I'm glad you wrote it up. My shock upon learning you used an eye brow pencil seems to have been tied into some childhood beliefs I hope I am ready to retire. They include that mother's should always be honest and transparent. Standards I do not want to hold myself to.
ReplyDeleteYour hope that mothers will always be transparent is also carried by mothers who hope that their wishes and desires will be fully read by the children they raise. In your case, my hope came true.
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