Brow Beaten

After a recent cut-and-color, my wife mentioned she would be heading back to the salon within a few days to have her “eyebrows done.” Since her regular styling costs a C-note, I figured just the brows could be groomed for maybe ten bucks. Imagine my shock when she said the procedure would set us back a cool five-hundred smackers.

“Good God!” I exclaimed. “Is that PER EYEBROW?” She replied that was the cost to have both of them shaped and tattooed. “You’re getting a TATTOO? On your FACE?” I envisioned some sort of tribal design, à la Mike Tyson, wondering if there was a filter on my phone’s camera that could magically erase it when we posed for a selfie.

She brought up a video of the process, known as “microblading,” which looked to me like she’d willingly be paying to experience death by a thousand cosmetic cuts. The benefit, she explained, was she would no longer need to spend precious seconds each day filling in her eyebrows with a pencil since the results were permanent. Or, as she clarified, “semi-permanent.”

“What do you mean by ‘semi-permanent’? There is either ‘permanent’ or ‘temporary’ – there is no in-between.” Such a statement delivered by Yoda might sound profound, but from my lips – not so much. I saw her trying to stifle a yawn.

I then decided to point out the potential risks of this endeavor: “What if the person doing the tattooing gets the hiccups? Or they’re inspired by Frida Kahlo’s appearance and you end up with a unibrow? And could you have that done for half price?”

In response, she offered a look suggesting, “I’ve had enough of your gibberish.” Realizing I could not talk her out of the decision, I offered a mumbled, “Whatever makes you happy.” An ardent feminist would have stood squarely behind, “Her eyebrows – her choice.” I, however, felt the need to re-establish equilibrium in our relationship and decided if she could spend $500 on body art – then so could I.

The day she returned to the salon, I hightailed it over to an area tattoo parlor, handing over a rough sketch of what I’d envisioned. I spent the next two hours nearly biting through my lower lip.

Once we were both back home, she asked what I thought of her enhanced eyebrows. “Nice enough,“ I replied, “… but what do you think about THIS?” I dropped my drawers to reveal my ink work. Since I couldn’t see her reaction, I explained, “It’s a heart – to show my love for you.”

She responded, “I can see it’s a heart – but why does it look broken?”

“Oh, that,” I sighed. “Unfortunately, the guy got the hiccups.”

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