The Difference Between Now and Permanent Found in My Eyebrows

Tara O’Neill

The Difference Between Now and Permanent Found in My Eyebrows

Stay at home moms. Sometimes you have to admit that although you wouldn’t change it for the world…..you do become bored at times. (Note my words – I am not the mommy from London saying “her kids bore her.” My little children never bore me – they are amazing.) My mommy boredom has manifested itself in different ways: cutting my family’s hair; moving furniture; starting home-based businesses; changing window draperies; switching wall pictures; attempting a garden; marketing other mommy’s home-based businesses; raising money for charity....oh, yes, and coloring my hair from blonde to midnight black. From shallow motivation to helping the world -- all the while taking care of my precious toddlers.Yet my perceived lack of daily accomplishments still filled me with torpor.

So when my husband wins a hairdresser prize package worth $300, I am thrilled with the surprise. The fine print said I could choose "two haircuts or an eyebrow design." I call the salon for the eyebrow waxing and quickly learn it is for permanent eyebrows. I google "permanent eyebrows" and find out permanent makeup seems to be the new rage. One less task to do in the morning. Then I notice on television how many actresses had such wonderful, distinct eyebrows. I never really noticed eyebrows before. They really do make a difference about a person's face. That’s it. Decision made.

Early Saturday morning, I set off to receive my free permanent eyebrows. However, my resolve wavers when I enter the tiny salon. Time has stopped here somewhere in the mid 1950’s. Old hairdressers and even older customers sit in chairs while wheelchairs converge in the corners. No one under the age of 60 seems to be here, except me.

Once the eyebrow technician sees me she says, “My, my, you have some eyebrows.” And I think, ‘Now that’s a strange statement; everyone has eyebrows.’ But then I look around and see a whole room filled with either no eyebrows, thin-penciled eyebrows or little hyphen brows. My inner alarm goes off, ‘Maybe this just isn’t a good idea.’

Nevertheless, I allow myself to be led back to a small room. Really, the room is a cluttered closet with old Christmas decorations flowing out of a large dresser pressed right up against the eyebrow chair. Dust sits on one of the low step stools where I set my pocketbook. And the technician puts on thick bi-focals as she chats away about permanent makeup and her half price sale on permanent makeup for lips and eyeliner in a few weeks. She also tells me much of her life story; it is pretty sordid. All she needs to do now is crack a beer can open and hang a cigarette out of her mouth to complete the picture. As I lie there, I wonder if she has any type of certification to complete this procedure. I don’t see a certificate anywhere in all the clutter; but at this point, I don’t really want to know.

When it is all done, she hands me a cracked hand mirror and apologizes for the crack. I take my first look, and I wonder if my reflection might have cracked it? Oh my goodness, what have I done? My hair was reddish brown with blonde highlights (another shallow bored mommy moment), and now I have two very large, two very black eyebrows. I look like Joe Pesci as the transsexual in the movie JFK. Next, I start to notice an amazing resemblance to Grumpy in Snow White. Two very large, two very black eyebrows keep staring back at me. The technician says that half of the color would wash away in a week or so. A week? A full seven days? She has to be kidding me! I am hoping in the next hour or so. I refuse to leave the salon. She has to do something. Make it better. I can't walk to my car like this. I look freakish. Does she have a hat? An umbrella? At the very least, she has to match my hair to my eyebrows.

"Make it black," I say in my lowest, most serious Dirty Harry voice. She follows my order without hesitation.

Finally, matching hair:midnight black hair and midnight black eyebrows. (In retrospect, another poor decision – too much of a Wicked Witch of the West resemblance.)

When I return home my husband couldn't have been more supportive. He greets me with, "Some monkeys here to speak with you, Ms. West." and “Are you surprised or frowning?"

That night and the next morning I scrub and scrub my eyebrows and stay in bed all the next day, hiding.

In a day or two with a lot of scrubbing, the darkness did lighten up. And the children weren’t frightened of me anymore. My 4 year old continuously asked me "Why did mommy put black caterpillars over her eyes?"

Even though I learned that eyebrows can do a lot for a face, I had two epiphanies: avoid anything with the word "permanent" in front of it when I am in a bored state of mind AND remember that babies and toddlers do not have that word in front of them – be content and experience the NOW.