As a treat today, I got to drive down to L-town to hang out with my mom and sister for the day. My wonderful Hubby played Mr. Mom while I had a girls' day out. I almost didn't know what to do with myself, shedding responsibilities with the miles as I drove, pretending I was in college again with not a care in the world, ready to have a good time.
Arriving in town, I first met Mom then together we went to pick up Sis at her new apartment. I was soon informed that our first stop was a salon where eyebrow waxing was on the menu. My Sis, brat that she is, lost no time in insisting that I get waxed along with the two of them as my black, bushy eyebrows, overgrown and lush as they are were embarrassing her and for her to comfortably be seen around town with me I'd need to fix them. I retorted that they were my furry pets and on no account was I going to mutilate them for her sake.
I had never had my eyebrows waxed, although I had considered doing it from time to time. I inherited my father's eyebrows, both in color and in the shape that would do a Vulcan proud. They grow down toward our noses in a sort of unibrow while the outside edges continue up toward our hairlines like Spock's famous V-brows.
While I was a little concerned about a wax job hurting, the main thing that held me back from actually doing it was the idea of the salon girl's gasp of horror when she saw my facial hair. Today, though, with my Sis's insistence that I ought to do it, I reluctantly tagged along, maintaining my stance that I had actually adopted my eyebrows as pets.
Fate stepped in to save me from myself, however. As we walked through the door, the first thing to greet us was a large sign in bold black-and-white letters. NO PETS. The three of us burst out laughing, drawing blank stares from the other normal human beings who populated the salon.
"That's it," Sis told me. "They've got to go."
With such a clear sign I had no choice but to agree with her. I submitted to my very first ever eyebrow wax. My pets are groomed and my only problem now is that I'm going to want to do it again in six weeks, but spend the money I probably won't.
Well, for a few weeks I won't be a Vulcan.