On my very first Christmas, my brother took my new toy, a spinning top and swung it around the room. He hit me in the eyebrow. A nice scar marks the spot. Over the years, it’s been a challenge to work around. Usually, I hide it with an eyebrow pencil. In my twenties, I kept the pencil in my car. Before I’d head off to work, I’d fix the scar while looking in the rear view mirror. It was a time saver. It makes perfect sense to keep your make-up in the car. Right?
The weather turned hot and I used the pencil. The heat melted the tip and it smashed into my eyebrow leaving a gigantic blotch of brown makeup. I cleaned some of it off, but it wasn’t enough.
Leonid Brezhnev was the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. He also was the original unibrow, until I came along.
I worked at a department store. I had just finished waiting on a woman and her daughter. The mother looked at me, kind of the way a puppy looks at a curious object. She cocked her head to the side and tried to make out my new found Brezhnev brow. “What happened to your …..e.y.e.b.r.o.w?” It wasn’t just a question. The general indignation and horror in her tone was a little offensive. The daughter grabbed her mother and pulled her away. “Mom…” the girl whined from embarrassment. The woman continued to stare at me in that puppy wonderment as her daughter dragged her out of the store.
From time to time, I’m sure they discuss that frightening brow from hell.