I turned 42 on Sunday. For two years now I have been stockpiling goops and creams, serums and scrubs to help me with my "maturing" 40 something skin. But the lines keep appearing in the oddest of places, like the one at the top of my nose that glares at me every time I put on mascara. I haven't found the miracle cream yet. Botox worked for a while on those main interstate mapquest lines across my forehead, but that is an expensive habit to keep up and when it wore off the wrinkles looked worse than before. But it isn't as though I didn't know the wrinkles were coming. I have been hearing about them all my life with ads for anti-wrinkle this and anti-aging that. Now there is even a great new book I thought was hysterical that talks about our aging necks. I never even thought about my neck starting to wrinkle, sag and begin to blend with the place where my chin used to stop. I now consider myself educated on yet another part of the body that evolves into something unrecognizable with age.
I wasn't prepared on my birthday when I went to the mirror to say hello to my 42 year old self, have a little self chat about all the lessons and successes, joy and pain I experienced over the past year as my new year began, when I noticed something odd. My eyebrows had literally disappeared. Okay, so maybe it didn't happen overnight. But wow, they looked bad. Nearly gone. Definitely no ends left on both sides and spots with no hair at all right in the middle. I did my best to pencil them in and jump back in bed for my favorite cup of coffee all year, the one my daughter makes for me in bed on my birthday.
As we sat and talked about the day she looked at me and said, "Mommy, you have perfect eyebrows." She didn't know they were drawn in! By 2 pm I had run into a friend of mine who is a cosmetic tattoo artist. She looked at me, looked closer and grabbed my face like my mother used to do and moved it side to side. After 30 seconds she said, "You really should let me tattoo your brows. They frame the face ya know." I was really getting a complex by now.
Today was the big filming for a new television series I am going to be a part of. I woke up on time, ordered room service and began to do my make-up at the hotel loving the fact that all was going so well... until I discovered I had forgotten my eyebrows, aka brow pencil. Panic began to set in. The camera adds pounds, not brows I thought. I frantically searched my purse and makeup bag. No luck, not even a brown eye shadow to fake it. When I pulled out the fine point sharpie I use at book signings, yes a sharpie, a fierce battle in my mind ensued:
"What choice do you have?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"It's a fine point. It will look fine."
"It will look horrible and you'll be on TV!"
I ever so carefully penned in my sharpie brows and headed to the shoot. I have to admit, they looked great and no one ever knew, except me and God.
As we women age, hair on our upper lip grows and collects too much snow on the ski lift, an observation my best friend pointed out on our last trip to mammoth before laughing so hard we nearly fell to our death. But this and other pesky facial hair growth we are warned about, just like wrinkles. No one ever told me I would wake up one morning and be searching for my missing brows.
So, if you happen to see my sandy blondes are looking for their owner eyebrows, send em' my way because my sharpie is almost out of ink.
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