I am 43 years old. This is fine.
43 is the new 21…
…well, it is now. According to me. Let’s go with that, k.
Thing is, although my 40s don’t scare me, the slight physiological changes are causing me to do things I’ve never done before.
So far I can report that contrary to some of my 40 year old friends, I have not begun sprouting facial hair, and I’ve only had to pluck one grey pubic hair.
This is my issue: my eyebrows are falling out.
Like I never have to tweeze them.
I would never even have noticed this if I wasn’t growing my bangs out. Now, in order to keep the hair out of my face, I wear a headband most of the time thus revealing my forehead, and as such, my eyebrows.
Yesterday morning as I was
inspecting myself closely in the mirror brushing my teeth in the mirror, I noticed how sporadic my eyebrows are becoming.
Not a big deal, right. This can easily be solved by drawing some in.
So I pulled out my black eyeliner, and started jotting in a dotted line.
My left eyebrow looked good.
My right one, though, was arching up.
But I was late for class, so the upraised eyebrow stayed.
I momentarily wondered about getting botox in order to permanently sport this “I give a shit about what you have to say” look.
I figured if I was going to get botox, then breast implants should be next on my to-do list.
But then, as is often the case with my early morning, life altering decisions, by lunch time, I had forgotten all about the boob thing.
I was still fixated on my lack of eyebrows, though.
I know in the picture my ponytail has four strands.
That’s because my hair is falling out too.