Back in the spring of 2016, I was a second-semester freshman who knew everything. You know, I thought that if I could make it back into my dorm, past the check-in desk, blackout drunk off one Natty Light I drank in a stranger's basement, I could take on anything. But, sis, I was wrong.
I was dating a fraternal man, and he had invited me to his formal. It was my first every fraternity formal AND it was in a different city, so you know tiny 18-year-old me was freaking out. I became obsessed with looking through '#formal' on Instagram and I was determined to look fire at this event.
But, young naïve 18-year-old me didn't think about the fact that there are literally tons of paid professionals who will glow you up for just a small fee, and she also procrastinated until a week before formal to even think about things like hair, nails, eyebrows, etc.
Here is the thing though, back in 2016 I didn't own a pair of tweezers. Yeah, I know. So, what I used instead was an eyebrow razor, and that was the start to the one life in my event I compare to the fall of the Roman Empire, mighty and depressing.
I had used this eyebrow razor before and nothing had gone wrong, I still had two perfectly thicc eyebrows. I used the razor to thin out the brow, from the tail to the start, I did my right eyebrow first which should have somewhat triggered my brain into thinking something was wrong because I always start with the left. (The left is favorite.)
I start thinning out my darling left brow, thinking about how bomb I'm about to look at this formal. I had this dope maroon dress that tied in the back, and it had a slit in the leg. Plus, I was going tanning and my skin HAD really started glowing, even if I was a little sunburnt. AND WITH THE GREY HEELS? SKSKSK, sis! I was going to slay.
While my mind had started to drift to how I would look, I didn't really realize that I wasn't being as precise with my movements anymore with my brow. Then, suddenly my hand jerked and with that, I had no left eyebrow.
I was devastated, she was gone. My eyes started welling up and I dropped to my knees in front of my standard issue dorm room mirror. How could this have happened, literally a week out and my eyebrow has left the chat. I was crying so hard, wheezing out small questions of if there is or isn't a God, and if so why had she let me do this to myself.
After about two more hours of mourning and multiple calls to my best friend, I decided to allow myself to calm down and look in the mirror again. My eyebrow looked like a 1920's flapper girl had taken possession but there was still hope.
So, if you ever decide to start shaving your eyebrows with a razor: