Tomorrow is the 143rd running of the Kentucky Derby. I have to say that somehow I have watched the race on television many times, over the past years. I don’t know anything about betting. I generally will “pick” the winner because I like the color of the horse or the horse’s name. I’ve never been to a horse race in my life but I bet I would like it, if it wasn’t for all the people and I wouldn’t want to wear a big hat. I am not a hat person and never have been. In the winter I won’t cover my head and in the summer, the hats never fit well. I have a rather small head, by circumference, and hats just fly off.
However, I may be wearing a big brimmed hat in the near future because of a recent event that may necessitate wearing big dark sunglassesin addition to a hat. Perhaps that will draw more attention that I actually want, but I am a bit concerned about concealing my latest mishap. It is hardly a problem in the first world problem mindset, and yet I am somewhat embarrassed to even bring it up. Age has actually allowed me to get over being embarrassed fairly quickly and shift to peals of laughter instead, at myself. My thought is, if something I do makes me laugh, that is actually a good thing. If it makes someone else laugh, that would be the bonus to a silly, stupid error in judgment.
Last night after a series of long days which lasted into the evenings, I thought I would do some facial grooming, specifically to my eyebrows. I was tired, which is a chronic issue so I wasn’t paying as much attention as usual, to the task at hand. My eyebrows, as I age, have taken on a Groucho Marx like growth and as a refined woman, I take care of them, to not frighten small children but to have the look of the right curve and control. My thought is if I can’t control the hips, the eyebrows must be managed. But I digress…. I purchased a handy dandy device that grooms and shapes and kind of shaves to even them. I clearly was not schooled in the actual process of how to do this, but in my usual devil may care “how difficult can this be?” attitude, I took off my glasses and turned the little groomer and aimed above my right eye. Now, I need to report that without my glasses I can’t really see much. When people approach me, while my glasses are off, I smile a genuine smile but until they are within about four feet of me, I am not always sure who the smile is at. Hence (such an underused word), when I attempted to trim, I ended up shaving off half of the eyebrow. I heard buzzzz and thought, and may have even said out loud “UH-OH!”. I quickly put my glasses back on and took a look. It was a non-religious “HOLY CRAP” moment. I didn’t panic. I just got up close in the mirror and stared. It looked so weird. I thought to myself that this is one of those out of body moments. I know it is me, but is it really me? It was and is me. For a millisecond, I thought, should I do the same on the left or am I completely out of my mind? I got a grip and decided that leaving it alone and trying to mitigate the damage was probably the best tack. I was unclear as to what that might be, but washing my face, and turning off all the lights and going to sleep, would allow me time to see if it was just a dream. So, that’s what I did. I woke in the morning and re-evaluated my options. I dried my hair after showering and put on some make-up (on my face) and my glasses on my nose and went to work. No one noticed. I came home and my FHB didn’t notice. Are people blind or polite? Not quite sure. The missing half eyebrow is my reality. Perhaps I will start a trend. My bet on the Derby is Good Magic. Have you seen his eyebrows?