Beautician

by mutteringhousewife

Like so many things in my life, going to the beautician isn’t really one of those things I choose to do, it just happens. The first time I went to one was to redeem a gift certificate. It was a fairly pleasant experience, but the beautician went broke shortly afterwards. There was another one that my sister booked me into, which was also pleasant, but extremely tedious. She also went broke shortly afterwards. There have been a few in between that I’ve just drifted into, one who commented on my extreme old age, one who was a bit over ambitious getting my bikini line even, one with scary multicolored talons.

Today’s appointment was set up by my hairdresser. He’s insisting on dying my hair at my next appointment, unable to stand the kaleidoscope of ginger, blonde, dark brown and grey that is happening on my skull any more. I mention that when he dyes my hair, my eyebrows look a lot lighter. I’m actually in fear of them disappearing altogether, like my mother’s. My niece has suggested that perhaps Grandma got a big surprise one day and they just flew off. It could happen to me, I’m easily surprised.

Apparently you can get your eyebrows dyed. Also your eyelashes. So Gary has organized a young lady in Paddington to call me and book me in to her emporium of such mysteries. Paddington. That’s in the eastern suburbs. When people find a parking spot in the eastern suburbs, they pop into a dodgy doctor to get a disability sticker so they can leave their car there for the rest of their Ives. Then they bequeath it to their children. So I was foolish to venture there without my GPS enabled iPad, and even more so when I realized there was no map in the car. Fortunately my patient husband was able to talk me from the skip I’d parked beside to the emporium over the phone.

Once again, it was all very pleasant, though I hadn’t realized eyebrow shaping was one of the arts. I didn’t even really want my eyebrows shaped, I like them way they are, they’re rather sardonic. I just don’t want them disappearing in direct sunlight. She was very lovely, spoke English, didn’t draw blood at any point, and was very gentle with my eyebrows. She also dyed my eyelashes, which I knew was a beautician thing because I’d accidentally had it done at my very first gift certificate visit. I hope her finances are in order.

I think they look a little dark, I shall have to spend the next couple of days being very cross to use them to full effect. Apparently they’ll lighten a bit when I wash my hair. Nobody has noticed them, except my smirking husband, so they can’t be too savage. I wonder if it’s something I’ll do again? Perhaps I should just buy a dark brown Sharpie, it’d be much cheaper.

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