I’ve never really been a beauty treatment type of person. I love a bit of make-up and skin care products but when it comes to treatment I’ve just never really bothered.
I’ve never had a wax or a massage, I don’t use fake tan, I’ve only ever had one facial and I’ve had a manicure about four times in my life.
But over the last while on social media and even just among my friends in real life there’s been a lot of talk about eyebrows. First thin eyebrows were in, then fuller ones, people pluck them, wax them, thread them. But I’ve only ever had my eyebrows ‘done’ once before, for my wedding four years ago.
Since then, nothing. I’ve just left them to their own devices. But all this eyebrow talk got me looking at mine more critically and wondering if getting them shaped would be really so bad.
I had a childfree day on Sunday and have been saving for the past few months for a winter coat, so I decided while I was out shopping that I’d get my eyebrows done while I was there.
Before the appointment I asked a few friends if it hurt getting them done and most people said it was a bit sore and ouchy but nothing to write home about.
I went in to the shop at my appointment time and was met by a smiling therapist who almost immediately sat me down in the chair, with a sympathetic glance. I think she knew she had a runner on her hands.
Nervously I lay back, enjoying the cooling gel she rubbed on before hand thinking ‘Now this isn’t so bad at …’
What the fuck is she … this is …sweet baby Jesus save me …
Midway through the torture a woman came into the shop and spoke to the therapist wondering about appointment times.
I tried to warn her, I really did, but all that came out was an anguished keening noise – I was helpless to save her.
If I had thought getting the top of my eyebrows done was bad, I had felt nothing yet. She started on the hairs under my eyebrow, closest to my eyelid and honestly, I wished for the sweet release of death.
Snatches of childhood prayers came back to me as I mumbled the Our Father incoherently, digging my nails into my palm.
“Are you ok?” the therapist asked gently, patting me reassuringly on the shoulder, before moving on to my left eye.
I wanted to leap up and leave but I couldn’t go around with half my face done so I bravely gritted my teeth and answered her: “Mmdmmmgmggllllll” It was the most I could manage.
She moved her gentle hands across my face and it started again.
For the love of all that is HOLY!
Sweating now, I dug deep into my reserves for the home stretch knowing that it couldn’t go on much longer.
And just like that, she was done. She wiped soothing cooling gel across my eyebrows to calm the pain and sat me up so I could see for myself.
“Oh!” I exclaimed “They’re lovely! Oh!”
She must be used to this reaction because she gave another gentle smile and nodded beatifically.
They were lovely. Neat, arched, shaped, nothing too mad looking. And they made my eyes look a little more open and bright – though that could have been the tears, too.
I felt like I had been in that chair for several decades, but the reality is that my appointment took literally six minutes from start to finish and that included paying.
So overall, threading hurts like a motherfucker, you’ll wish you were dead while it’s happening but it’s really fast, it’s cheap and the results are great.
Here’s a Before and After pic for you, for comparison. It’s nothing dramatic, but they look nice and tidy and shaped.