A Harried Attempt

**This was not recent, this was written a while ago. My eyebrows are not as jacked up currently***

I should probably never drink a lot of coffee and then try to get ready for an audition. It was the afternoon before I had to go to work at the YMCA and I had just gotten off of work at Starbucks. I had an audition later that evening so I knew the only time I could really prepare was the few hours between Starbucks and the YMCA. After Starbucks I was still feeling sleepy so I order a triple tall peppermint white mocha, my first mistake of the morning. Since the tall drink is fairly small, I had finished about half of it by the time I reached my house. I was doing great on time so far and I was starting to feel the first inkling of energy. Once I was done showering I finished the rest of my drink and now everything was moving in slow motion around me as I whipped through my chores. Laundry, done. Dishes, clean. Acting submissions, sent. Taxes…later. Everything was ready as I printed out my newly updated resume and organized it in a folder along side my headshot.

Now all I had to do was maintenance my face. It had been a while since I had an audition so things were starting get a little out of hand, mainly my eyebrows. Now I’ve never been very good at keeping up with my eyebrows, its just one of those tasks I dread doing and I’m too lazy to go get them done every other week, or however often you’re supposed to. So I do what I find natural, I look up instructions on You Tube. I sift through all of the instruction videos geared towards male upkeep of the eyebrow (I never realized this was a thing for men as well) and I find a fairly homemade instruction video. She begins with all the tools you’ll need in order to accomplish this task and I nod along as she lists tweezers and an eyeliner pencil for touch ups. But then she mentions a pair of small scissors. “I have a pair of mustache scissors, which work very well for eyebrows,” she says and I start to scramble. What once was energy fueled by three shots of espresso, quickly becomes fuel for an overactive anxiety tantrum.

Tiny Scissors!? I don’t have tiny scissors!?

Maybe my roommates have some!

And I begin to rush through the bathroom like a whirl wind all the while justifying my borrowing by saying “I’ll clean them thoroughly after!” As I open every drawer and cabinet, the instruction girl ideally carries on about the benefits of the various kinds of eyebrow wax. Finally I flop down in front of the computer, puffing air in and out as I hold my foot long pair of scissors that are normally used to cut large pieces of paper, or boxes. The girl flippantly throws out the warning that one should only use a pair of scissors that are small so as to maintain precision. I pause, considering her warning, and finally choose to ignore it as the minutes tick by closer to when I’m supposed to leave for work.

First, eyebrow girl goes into the general cleaning up under the eyebrow, and I start to skim through in order to find where she talks about trimming. With a fancy little eyebrow brush she combs her eyebrow up and talks about the importance of line and eye placement, while I suddenly start frantically searching for something resembling a tiny brush. At first I just use the tip of the tweezers, but as my eyebrow slowly sinks back down I realize I’ll need something else. I grab hold of my hair brush with the plastic knobby bristles and haphazardly start to rake my eyebrow upwards, occasionally taking my eyelid with it. All the while, instructional eyebrow girl shows the exact way to hold your tiny scissors, as I lower my airplane sized pair closer to my face. She makes quick concise cuts as I take my eyes away from the screen in order to watch the destruction I’m about to inflict on my face.

I snip a large chunk off of one brow. It looks reasonably good!

So THAT’S how people make them smaller… Ooohh.

Excited I look down at the clock, only 8 minutes left before I should leave. Panicked I start trimming a little too much. Suddenly I look in the mirror; my left eyebrow has a large gap in it while my right one looks like a caterpillar run over with a lawn mower. I start to panic even more, the caffeine coursing through my veins, blood pounding in my ears as I go red and blotchy with embarrassment and anger.

Umm, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO YOUR FACE!?!?!

Silently I hear the voice of one of my class clowns saying “Miss Katie your eyebrows are jacked UP!”

I scramble, the eyebrow lady is just touching on the subject of how to cover up any mistake with eyeliner. I grab my set of pencils that were mainly used for shows and old age makeup and go to town. 5 minutes left. My right eyebrow looks like Charlie Chaplin’s stunted mustache as my left lazily stretches out perfectly across my brow. I freak and try to correct only making the right one larger and. I start back peddling by trying to make the left one match. Now I have 70 year old man-brows darker than asphalt. 3 minutes until I need to leave…

In order to start over I furiously wash my face making it bright as a cherry; which becomes neon in comparison to the suddenly very pale patches in my eyebrows.
I should cancel my audition, I think to myself.

Oh stop it just take a deep breath, and try again. You look funny but you can still act.

Ugh, fine.

So I take a deep breath acknowledge I may be a tad late for the YMCA and continue to fill in the blanks on my face. Slowly but surely my eyebrows suddenly resemble… well, eyebrows! I look at them from side to side, they seem alright. I pack my things quickly noting all of the papers and clothes I’ll need to take to my audition.

I rush out the door in a flurry and make it to the YMCA only 5 minutes passed my usual time. As I sit in the office my co-worker, and the local office teaser, talks to me while glancing every now and then above my eyes. She says nothing about them. I breathe.

Just don’t rub your forehead.

~Goof