Saying Goodbye To The Best Brows I Never Had

Not sure if I've mentioned this on the blog before but I've had more than a bit of brow trauma during my lifetime. When I was a kid, I had dark - almost black, bushy, unruly brows. Obviously the complete opposite of brow fashion at the time, which was of the 'oh, those two biro lines above my eyes? They're actually my brows, dontcha know' variety. Made worse by the fact that I was naturally light blonde, so I spent most of my school days being asked if I dyed my hair (I didn't - until much later), and, by one moron, whether I dyed my eyebrows.

So fast forward to the mid noughties, and I've pluck, pluck, plucked my way to thin, groomed brows. Phew! Finally my brows are the height of fashion! Errmm...for about a minute, until bushy brows came back. Darnit! S'ok though, I'll just grow them back out. Easy peasy! Except then there were horror stories about how some pluck-happy gals just could not get their brows to grow back, no matter what they did. Gulp. So for one whole year I did not pluck. (oh ok, I lightly plucked. Let's be real here - I want bushy, not mono-brow). And my brows grew back. Sweet Jesus! I was brow-happy once more.

This state of brow-content lasted a couple of years. Ok, so they weren't exactly Cara-like, but they were mine. And then one day, I noticed a little bald patch on my right brow. Not thinking too much of it, I filled it in with pencil and went on my merry way. It seemed to get bigger over the weeks that followed, but I still thought it was just a phase my brow was going through, and that it'd soon stop this silliness and get back to it's full-haired self. How naive was I.

A few weeks later I was passing the mirror and stopped to inspect my brow-ness. To my horror, my left eyebrow had decided she'd follow her sister into the land of partial baldness. In the exact same place. I screamed for a few seconds then trotted myself off to the docs who did some tests and declared there was no underlying cause, and I must have overplucked. Now at this point I can categorically state that I had NOT overplucked - for a start, the bald patches were in the inner tops of my brows, where I've NEVER plucked, even during my earlier pencil-brow days. So basically, I had to resign myself to filling in my brows for ever more. I could have had them tattooed, of course, but a quick search on Google soon put me off that idea (navy blue, sperm shaped brows, anyone?). And then my beautician told me about Ultimate Brows. This is a temporary (lasting 2-3 weeks) brow treatment that involves adhering a powder mix (they call it a textured tint) to the skin to give the illusion of fuller brows. She told me it was a new treatment and would be perfect for me and my little baldy-brows, so I was in the salon and flat out on the treatment bed before you could say 'BROW ME BUSHY!'. Although the Ultimate Brows feel a little weird once applied - kinda like your brows are smothered in glue - I LOVED the look of them. LOVED them! I finally had Brow Game! Oh yes, I strutted out of that salon like Lily Collins.

Me all smug with my Ultimate Brows. And no, I won't post a before (or after) photo.)

Two weeks later, after finally being able to fulfil such lifelong dreams as wearing my hair swept off my forehead, thanks to my Ultimate Brows, I noticed they'd started to become a little....ermmm....crusty. Hmm. Skin disease was not the look I was going for, so I booked back into the salon to get them removed. (I'd been warned not to try to take them off myself, as the glue could well pull my own brow hairs out too.) So, my beautician removed them, then said she'd shape my natural brows a little for me. 'OK', I said, still mourning the loss of the best brows I ever had. Then she handed me the mirror, and all I could think at this point, if you'll pardon the language, was 'OH FOR F%?&'S SAKE!'. She'd bleedin' pencillised them again. 'They're a little thinner', she said, meekly. A LITTLE THINNER?!! I wanted to scream. Obviously I smiled politely and left, then spent ten minutes crying in the carpark.

So that was two days ago, and I'm torn. Torn between missing my Ultimate Brows, wanting to get them done again, and never wanting anyone to get within a ten-mile radius of my brows EVER. AGAIN. It's difficult to know, too, whether the Ultimate Brow treatment actually damaged my brows which contributed to my current brow-shame. Because of this, I'm reluctant to get them done again.

So, that's the current sitch - after a lifelong emotional brow roller-coaster, I'm back to bleeding square one. My only option now is to wait and hope that what brows I did have grow back. I'm crossing everything.

Have you had a brow-tastrophe? Let me know!

PS  - I have written this post in a jesty style, but this is due to the fact that a) I've had a couple of glasses of wine, and b), if I didn't I'd cry and probably never stop. Yes, they're just brows. No, in the grand scheme of things, they don't really matter. Except they do, right? THEY DO. *sad face*.
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