Need Help? Me? Nah - Just Browsing

I stopped at the grocery store last night to pick up plastic gloves, bleach and razor blades (more about that in another post), and the girl at the register had no eyebrows. I mean, she had eyebrows, but they were carefully drawn-on shapes that, indeed, were not quite in the spot where eyebrows should be. Nor were they the shape that eyebrows tend to take. To be honest, they reminded me of tadpoles (or, more insidiously, sperm). Although she was friendly, speedy, and seemed very competent, it was all I could do to not stare. Rude, I know. I don't think her ersatz brows were because of the effects of chemotherapy or such, since she had a full head of hair, but who knows?

She wasn't the first penciled-in Picasso that I've run across, either - just the most recent. Such an odd phenomenon. I mean, I could understand the brow-pencil action if the wearer, indeed, had no brows for whatever reason. But to voluntarily remove them and reposition them? That .. I just don't get. Then again, I probably shouldn't talk. If all the tweezers of the world went on strike tomorrow, I'd be mistaken for Ernie's Bert with alarming frequency. But I tame. I do my best not to eliminate.

Anyway, it made me remember the Itty Bitty Baby incident.

My mom, before she passed away, became a collector of the American Girls series of dolls. Since she'd order things from time to time, the company sent an ever-expanding parade of catalogs. As the series grew in national popularity, they'd add to the collection of dolls. So far, so good. However, they went too far when they added the collection of infant dolls called Itty Bitty Baby dolls.

Aside from the cloying, vomitrocious name, these dolls, to me, were disconcerting. They creeped me out. Big time. With each successive catalog, I'd examine the dolls and say to myself, "What is it? What is it about these plastic newborns that makes them look like pod people?" It took months, but I finally realized the problem: they had no eyebrows. None. Not even a hint of a brow on the realistically-crafted ridge of bone where a brow should be. This resulted in a strikingly dead-eyed look; a jarring lack of expression.

Fool that I was, I shared my apprehension with my mom. Thus began an avalanche of torn-out catalogue pages with be-browed Itty Bitty Babies. There were angry Itty Bitty Babies. Worried Itty Bitty Babies. Surprised Itty Bitty Babies. One memorable Itty Bitty Baby had a jauntily cocked left brow, another had angular brows to rival Sesame Street's Count.

When I shared this experience some time ago with a friend, she wasn't the least bit dismayed. She'd had a similar notion, thinking it would be great if she shaved off her eyebrows, then drew on expressions appropriate to the occasion. "Just think!" she said, "If I have to go out and kick ass for some reason, I'd paint on angry brows. If I have to go to a funeral, I'd do sad ones. It'd be fabulous! I'd never have to move my face at all!" I briefly considered the fact that this would, likely, stave off the appearance of wrinkles well into our dotage. It even appealed to my inherent laziness! Then I nixed the idea. I was afraid of becoming an Itty Bitty Baby.

It's strange how one checkout girl at the supermarket can bring on this existential brow crisis. But there you have it. Speaking of, it's high time I de-Berted.

Days until trip: 154
Money saved: $350.00 (Still. I suck.)