Today I waxed my own eyebrows. (At the encouragement of my friend Genevra, without whom I would’ve never even CONSIDERED taking such a huge leap of faith in myself. Thanks, friend!)
Here’s a really awful before-and-after comparison. {You’ll be a gem and excuse my atrocious pictures and my atrocious face? I’m in bed right now and I’m only typing this because I accidentally took a nap earlier this afternoon and therefore ruined my chances of coming even remotely close to achieving REM any time before midnight tonight. Foiled again by my own good intentions. I’ve got to stop doing that.}
This photo was taken a few weeks ago, and if you think the fuzzy centipedes hovering over my eye sockets were bad then…well, you can trust me when I say they were only getting worse.
…and here they are today. I know, you can hardly tell a difference because you’re so distracted by my unkempt hair and emotionless eyes, but I, at least, can see the difference. I’ve been walking around all afternoon caressing that unnamed piece of skin between my eyebrows, going, “Smooth…smooth…so smooth…” Because it had been a while since the last time I’d defuzzed.
And here’s a close-up. For your convenience.
Anyway, I learned two things from my personal eyebrow-waxing experience.
First, I learned that sometimes we just need to TRY something new, even if we’re pretty much certain we’ll fail. Was it scary to wield that sticky toothpick so close to my eyebrows? Yes, most definitely. But at the same time, I realised that eyebrows are just a tiny collection of little hairs, and if I totally butchered mine, they would grow back, and if they didn’t, I could always just tattoo some fake ones in their places. That would be awesome in absolutely every sense of the word.
And second, I learned that salons are making a killing on this stuff. $12.00 to get my eyebrows waxed at a fancy salon, when they buy their product in bulk and probably only spend twenty cents’ worth of wax per eyebrow? That’s like, a 99% profit. I totally want in on this.
And so, after one trial run, I’ve decided to go pro. I’ve been looking for ways to make some extra money without getting a real job (which I’m still not allowed to do), and I’ve finally found something that does not involve scrubbing my neighbors’ toilets or selling homemade salsa door-to-door (though I’m still considering that last option). Anyone in the local vicinity who would like me to run amok with the body sugar and some muslin strips, just go ahead and give me a call. I’ll only charge three dollars per brow, and throw in an upper lip for free. I mean, who wouldn’t put their appearance in the hands of a complete amateur who has already professed to know and care very little about all things fashionable? It’s a great idea! I’m not licensed; not even a little…but doesn’t that make it more exciting?
That’ll be my company slogan…
Camille’s Cosmetic Crapshoot: We’re not licensed…that’s why we’re so cheap. 100% satisfaction guarantee, or your money—wait, never mind about the satisfaction. You get what you pay for, and all sales are final.
Come to think of it, reading this blog is kind of like shooting craps with your time every day. You never know what I’m going to write about; some days, you might be forced to read about my eyebrows and my business schemes and my hair follicles and the like. Some days, reading my blog is a total waste of your time. Some days, you just get majorly gypped.
Good thing it’s cheap to read.
12 Responses to One Giant Crapshoot