When I decided what I wanted to write about this week I did stop and pause to ask myself, can one really talk about eyebrows for 1,000 words? Ok that’s not really the issue, I could write 1,000 words on just about any topic under the sun, the question was whether I could possibly keep you, my lovely reader, awake by the end of it.

I think eyebrows are fantastic. No other part of your body has transformative power to rival them. Nothing makes you look dishevelled quite like scruffy eyebrows and few things can make you look more polished than freshly shaped ones. I once realised I was deaf to what a girl at Estee Lauder was saying because her eyebrows were in terrible shape (not Aimee, the angel who works in the concession in Gloucesters Debenhams I hasten to add, she always looks immaculate). I just can’t take seriously anyone trying to comment on my appearance if their eyebrows are a mess.

I’m a DIY kind of girl. Much as I love my spa visits I am not fabulously wealthy and they are a treat. As such I dye my own hair, do most of my own facials and all of my manicures and pedicures. I don’t have my hair cut every two months, I leave it three. I’d love a monthly day devoted to treatments but I’d probably get less pleasure from it than I do from my once or twice a year treats. Yet there is one thing that I see as a vital necessity; while I tidy them myself with tweezers a regular hot wax eyebrow shape is something I’ll always find money for.

I get a lot of compliments on my eyes (personally I struggle to spot them above the bags and only tend to like the photos of myself where I’m wearing huge sunglasses) but I think my eyebrows are to thank. Eyebrows are to eyes like bras to breasts. They sculpt, shape and most importantly, lift. I don’t know why they sometimes get abandoned.

But the worst was yet to come. Veet has launched a new product: Veet High Precision Facial Wax. It comes with a little applicator tip and fabric strips. I’m flinching just thinking about the mess that so many inept hands are going to cause. And I just don’t get it. This product costs £8.49, more than an eyebrow wax at most salons!

Ok so there are horror stories. Having found Vicky (who I consider to be an artist) to care for my brows I can avoid the risk of a ham fisted waxer and instead lie back confident of being made more attractive but how hard is it to find a Vicky? Head out into your high street and look for the well polished women and ask them where they go. Seriously it’s not that hard; I once went up to a woman in a bar to ask where she shopped because I loved her dress. She was glad to point me in the direction of Principles, a shop I previously hadn’t ventured into because I thought it only catered to older women. She also said I’d made her day.

It’s important for boys as well. I remember once hearing my father complaining from my parents’ room and saw through the open door, my mother sitting on his chest to groom him. The fiancé gets his eyebrows trimmed by his barbour but I’m quick to pluck rogue hairs when he’s unsuspecting (incidentally ladies this is a game with endless possibility). For some reason the man grows the occasional thick and wiry hair which I call “eyebrow pubes” (usually in a loud voice) that prevent me taking him at all seriously while it hovers there somewhat perplexed at the amount of daylight it’s experiencing.

Trimming eyebrow pubes is a nice idea but I can still see them and they are always destined for removal by plucking.

Sadly there are no shortcuts with eyebrows. I still shudder at the memory of a girl I went to school with who shaved the underside of hers and subsequently often had stubble. Worse are those who lose parts of their eyebrows. The trend in the Far East used to be (it may still be but I’ve not been back for a few years) for eyebrows that were shorter than the width of the eye. I knew a number of expat women who got caught out and had the anguish of waiting for the hairs to slowly grow back.

A key reason for me for keeping my eyebrows neat is a desire to render them unnoticeable as my eyebrows are what threaten to give me away. I have naturally pale skin with a tendency to flush (I like the description of an English rose colouring but it’s rarely so pretty) and green eyes. My complexion and irises sit happily alongside the brown hair I dye ginger and I’ve even had a hairdresser fooled that I was a natural redhead. But too much eyebrow and like accusing caterpillars, the reality of my brunette roots would be shouting out from my face. Slim and gently arched, there isn’t enough hair to make a case. It’s not that I want to keep that I’m a fake a secret; I just don’t want it revealed through shoddy grooming.

I think that’s pretty much all I have to say. I could comment on those tiny eyebrow combs but I’m not sure what they’re for. Similarly I don’t understand eyebrow pencils (are they just for crazy old ladies with no eyebrows who draw them on or should I have one and be doing something with it?). By the time I complete this sentence that I’m writing I shall have written the grand sum of 988 words on the topic of eyebrows and that, I think, shall suffice. For this week at least.

I need to get out more...





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