I have caterpillar-eyebrows. They are amazing. They grow like rain forests. If I had a picture of my self, pre-tenth-grade, I would show them to you. Count yourself lucky I do not.
Since that most auspicious year, when I discovered tweezers, I have devoted much time and care to grooming the brows. My biggest fear is that, when we get to heaven, God will have a pie chart denoting how we spent the time given to us on this earth. My biggest slice will be something like 'Sleeping' or 'Dicking Around on the Computer' or 'Arguing Unecessarily with Self,' but just a little lower down will be 'Removing Body Hair: Subsection - Eyebrows.'
Once, in high school, a bunch of us went to Ecotique in the mall to get our eyebrows waxed. Jacki, I think you were there. It was a waste of my pie slice. Some girl a little older than me shmeared hot wax just above my eyelid and then ripped it off. I think she took out about four hairs. It cost $14.
About four years ago, I discovered eyebrow threading. I was downtown with...probably Jacki again...and we pulled over to get our eyebrows threaded at this little out-of-the-way place across from the Safeway. I came out with thin (but not too thin), perfectly-arched (but not pointy) eyebrows. I think it cost $4.
For those of you not in the know, eyebrow threading is the latest and greatest hair-removal technique the white person has seen. East Indians have been practicing it for hundreds of generations. They put one end of the threads in their mouths, hold the spool in one hand and a twisted corner of the thread in the other, and that's all I can tell you, because then they tell you to 'hold please' and you have to hold your eyelid shut and your forehead skin out of the way. It's like voodoo.
When I lived up near Blueridge (in what is practically a gated community, it's so affluent and inaccessible and I had to walk fifteen minutes to catch the bus to school and work but everyone there has SUV's and millions of dollars so they don't care), we got a flyer on our doorstep one day for a hair-and-nails opening up in the basement of the house next door to us. This is something that a lot of East Indian women do, set up a beauty salon in their basements to bring in a little extra cash. I think they're born with the ability to French manicure. I phoned her to ask if she did eyebrows, and of course she did, she thought it went without saying so she didn't put it on the flyer. I visited Sarb every two weeks until I moved away from there. She charged $3.
I moved to just off of Clearbrook Rd, and immediately set about looking for an Eyebrow Artist. Down the street about four blocks is a little place called Arvi's Hair and Something. They charge an unheard of $7, but man are they worth it. They all knew my name, but I couldn't ever keep them straight, and never figured out which one was Arvi.
The year I spent in Burnaby was a long and hairy one. Burnaby has a dearth of East Indians. Asians are great at math and food, but they suck and grooming your eyebrows for you. We've been back in Abbotsford for almost six months now, and I've visited Arvi's twice. It's clear across town, and yes, I still don't drive, and the Abbotsford bussing system...let's not touch that. ANYways, a little sign appeared down the road one day advertising a Hair Salon up my street about ten houses. I phoned in this morning, and they fit me in right away. Pawan, you are my new best friend. For a measly $3, my eyebrows look aMAzing, and she totally gave me a temple massage afterwards. When she wants me to let go of my eyelid and forehead, she says 'leave it.' I feel like a puppy.
I am going to live in East Indian neighborhoods for the rest of my life, and never pluck my eyebrows again. Or walk to school. Have I mentioned this? At least two separate families regularly pull up beside me while I'm walking to school and say 'College? Sit.' and then drive me up the hill. If a white guy pulled over and offered me a ride, I'd be all like 'Huh uh, buddy' and then I'd call the cops. Is that racist? I just thought of a story, but it might end up being long (look how long THIS post turned out to be), so I'll tell it to you tomorrow. It involves me accepting rides from strangers.