Frivolous...

I feel like I need to make myself a badge. A big, brightly coloured one that I can wear on my coat. One that is unmissable. And what, you may ask, would it say?

"Don't judge me, I'm growing out my eyebrows!"

Yes, I am that superficial.

I've been tweezing my brows ever since freshman year in high school, when I read an article about shaping your eyebrows properly in Seventeen magazine. And I have always had very nice brows, if I do say so myself. Immaculately groomed, carefully darkened, and (usually) pencil thin. But I read an article about how a "strong brow" is now in and some women age themselves by having very thin eyebrows, and I was inspired. I don't want to be like "some women." At least not on the eyebrow front. I mean, I NEVER bought a pair of skinny jeans--just rode that trend out (I hear flared crops are coming in this season). But brows--come on! That's always been my bag, baby!

This growing out process is painful. Well, ok, not really painful as such. But it is prickly and hairy and decidedly untidy. Painful in the sense that I cringe every time I see myself in the mirror.

So mom, you were right after all. I now regret plucking my eyebrows. You said I would all those years ago, and I snorted in derision. Want me to say it again (because I'd want to hear it again if it were me)?

You were right!