Eyebrow Pity Party

I have never liked my eyebrows. I inherited my dad's predilection towards eyebrows which insist on colonising not just the brow area but the entire forehead, ridge of the nose and a goodly portion of the eyelids. The hairs are coarse and black and sprout in no discernible order or shape. In their natural shape they do not so much frame my face as dominate it, exhuding a dark and forbidding menace which destroys the the subtle hazel gleam of the eyes below.

This situation was not aided by a fall on top of a radiator at age three, which split my head upon, and left scar tissue which bisects my left eyebrow horizontally. Of course my eyebrows are made of sterner, hairier stuff than a bit of dead skin, so the left eyebrow proceeded to carry on its growth below the scar tissue, creating a massive new outcrop of hair in a patch unparalleled by its fellow on the right.

My early teen years were blighted by the presence of these eyebrows. I discovered feminism early, and interpreted it in my own way, deciding that I would wear make-up, but altering the hair on my face was one step too far for me, the ambassador of modern and progressive womankind, to go. I will gloss over the painful experiences which ensued, and pass on to the purchase of tweezers at fifteen.

You might think my story will now come to a happy end, with my transformation from ugly duckling. Sadly, it was not to be. The scar tissue under my left eyebrow means it must be plucked into a spindly little curve just a couple of hairs wide. Instead of looking like a yeti, I look like a pluck-happy freak. My nose becomes the centre of my face, and seriously, is that ever a good thing?

I don't think there's an answer to this dilemma. I've been experimenting with the hairy little buggers for six years now and every possible configuartion of hairs just looks heinous. I'm curious to find out if there are any fellow sufferers out there though - perhaps some kind of Eyebrow Alliance is called for?