Eyebrows Are The One Thing You Can Get Into Shape Without Exercising

I know I shouldn’t be running around money-frittering, but I went to Ulta recently to look. You know how that goes, right?

The closest Ulta store is a bunch of miles from our house because everything is a bunch of miles from our house except for a collection of Publix grocery stores. There are THREE of them within walking distance of our home, and two of them mirror each other across the street. Nice monopoly, don’t you think? No one in this town can make sense of that, either.

Anyway, I like that particular Ulta store because it has a laid-back, I-just-want-pretty-hair-and-makeup vibe and is usually filled with shoppers of all ages and friendly, helpful employees.

On the day I was there, one woman passed me in every cramped aisle, pushing an oversized stroller while her toddler ran around willy-nilly, grabbing samples and smearing various products everywhere. Occasionally, she’d halfheartedly reprimand her offspring while shoving the stroller into other people’s way and then acting pissy about it. (“Excuuuuuse me…”)

The Ulta store was crawling with young fashionistas with the same long, curled hairstyle and their despondent offspring. My people—the older, minimally made-up, messy-bunned, legging-wearing crowd—were nowhere to be seen. I felt like a single, large rock in the middle of a neatly manicured lawn witnessing multiple kids having some version of a toddler terror attack. There was screaming, flopping on the floor, senseless reasoning, and a lot of NO!! NO!!! NO-ing from both mothers and children.

There is no judgment here. I get it. I’m a toddler's grandmother and try not to gawp openly during public tantrums. I’ve seen mine flip a switch and transform from a sweet little girl kissing and rocking her babydolls into a flailing, snot-nosed demon just because I handed her the blue sippy cup when she wanted a red sippy cup.

That’s just the way of small children. They’re learning to regulate their emotions and understand how the world works. Except as a grandparent, I have no idea what the right thing to do in that situation is. Do you attempt to reason? Soothe? Grab and remove from the premises? I’ve always found distraction and occasionally not telling the truth works best.

Like recently, at Disney, I fibbed and said, “I see Belle!” when we were waiting for the parade to start, and Belle was nowhere near. That little lie brought us and the people around us a few non-screeching moments with a cranky toddler whose blood sugar was rapidly dropping from lack of cheese goldfish and Mickey Bars.

Waiting for that parade was a party in a can let me tell you. For 30 minutes, Bill and I split duties. I sat in Frontier Land in our parade spot and had melted popsicle dripped down my head from the kid standing behind me while I was holding off an angry mob who was ready to shank me with their Little Mermaid bubble wands if I didn’t move a few inches to the left. Meanwhile, Bill strolled back and forth with an impatient toddler who wanted to see a goddamned princess! I’m not sure which of us was in more danger. 

After 25 minutes, our little princess decided she wanted to leave NOW. I understand that waiting was boring, but I'm sorry, girlfriend, leaving was not in the cards. We were there to see the parade, AND SHE WAS GOING TO SEE THE PARADE. (Those were my thoughts, not my words, BTW.) Thankfully, the parade started not a moment too soon; everyone calmed down, and it was the best thing ever.

So, back to Ulta. I went to look at an eyebrow pencil I’ve heard raves about, and you all know when I say “look,” I mean “buy,” right?

I’m a huge sucker for word-of-mouth product evangelizing and the ridiculously overblown snake-oil claims about beauty potions. I’ve reached the age where my eyebrows are sparse and need filling, which might be a surprise to anyone who knew me and my monobrow in middle school well before I discovered the wonder of tweezers. I’m not ready to go the microblading route, so I’m going to try my hand at a pencil and pray for the best. I just hope I don’t end up looking like one of the Angry Birds. Ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaa. Ha. Ouch. I hurt myself by picturing that and then laughing at it. 

I am naive and gullible, but perhaps, through the magic of an overpriced eyebrow pencil, I will be transformed into a maternal yet sexy and ageless goddess of beauty and light. Or - more likely - I will be incredibly sloppy with that pencil thing, lose my patience, throw it at the mirror in frustration, distract myself with a cookie, and then return it a few days later. 

We shall see.