Sidetracked



When do you start to worry about ear hair?

It's over! The class that tied the noose around my neck has come to an end and I want to throw its going away party! Tonight.

On a different note, I am tired of plucking my eyebrows. I've been obsessively plucking and plucking since the 8th grade and I just don't want to anymore. The soft skin that harbors those teeny tiny follicles is starting to loathe my daily ritual and those cold shiny tweezers.

I wasn't even allowed to wear makeup or shave my legs in the 8th grade, but there was no way my mother would stop me from plucking my eyebrows into perfect brown arches.

It's a complex. I am scarred for life.

I was sitting at the lunch table, talking to Caroline and Stephanie about this secret note I wanted Caroline to give to Justin (a serious crush) for me. He wasn't to know who I was, but I wanted to add a hint about myself in the note, so he could maybe guess who I was.

Yeah, I know it sounds lame and retarded, but I was an overweight, painfully shy, acne ridden 8th grader who was crazy about a boy.

We all did stupid stuff.

So, I was trying to decide what kind of hint I would put in the note to describe myself. I asked Stephanie to describe me in two words.

Bushy eyebrows.

I was shocked. Needless to say, Stephanie and I weren't friends after that, and I started plucking that very night.

There was another incident later on in high school. I didn't give a shit about makeup or boys or plucking anymore. I had just gotten my hair cut into this really funky short hairstyle. My sister was telling me how much she liked my hair and I was soaking up the compliments until she said, "Now we just need to do something about those eyebrows."

So the incessant plucking continues to this day, and I'm now trying to figure out how to stop the madness.

Don't even get me started on the mustache.

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