Breaking up with Crazy, part 2

in better days...

Everything about Breaking up with Crazy is going great. Swimmingly. Except for the part about breaking up with my esthetician, the woman who performed my monthly brow waxing for a long time. A really long time, with great results. Unfortunately she got just too freakin' nuts and her dog bit me, etc. Read more here, if you don't already know the story. The brows part is not going well, really not cool.

I thought I was getting a great deal when I jumped on a Living Social or a Groupon or one of the hundreds of other offers that are emailed to me daily: 5 brow waxes for $50.  The location was convenient, and damn, what a great price.  But I only used the first appointment, meaning I took the gamble and lost.  Because here is what happened.

The office was in kind of a funky building.  I wasn't thrilled about that part, but then again, I was buoyed by the prospect of five months of basic upkeep for $50, willing to overlook it. The esthetician was fine.  I've gotten a lot better at small talk, so I could sustain 30 minutes of chatter about her cats and her boyfriend.  La, la, la, everything's going fine.  Until she put the mirror up to my face, waxing complete, and I noticed that the brows were completely uneven, one big chunk taken off the base of the right hand side.  I pointed it out, and she said words that should never be used by professionals dealing with your hair, whether the hair on your head or elsewhere:

"It'll grow back."

Actually now that I remember it, first she said the brows weren't uneven.  It was just my face.

Really!  I'm not kidding.  

I felt a little sick the whole way back from the appointment to the office, still sticky from remnants of wax on my face, fully aware that my new specs only made it all the more obvious that my brows were completely crooked.

Fuck.

I've been feeling a little wax-shy after that experience, relying on tweezers with uneven results.  And feeling a bit raggedy, not my favorite.  

So when we came out of the movies yesterday afternoon and there was a Benefit right next door, while Joe was listening to his voice mail, I popped in.  They were closing in 5 minutes but could do my brows. 

Cool.

So I sat in the window, which is such a weird thing, and made pleasant banter with my esthetician with whom, naturally, I had yoga in common.  Naturally.  Joe ambled in and got to observe this process that he's never seen before.  I should have watched his face a little more closely, should have noticed his own brows go up in alarm.  Instead it was the esthetician who said, one brow done, as she held up the mirror to my face, that she'd made a teensy little mistake, but no worries.

"It'll grow back."

This time it's the left brow, uneven chunk in the top.  Are you fucking kidding me?

I stayed pleasant.  Freaking out wouldn't resolve anything, and honestly, an eyebrow doesn't seem like something to freak out about.  Except, damn it, I was bummed since I am 2 for 2 on the sucky eyebrow experience.  And it's my face.

At least she did a good job on the right one.  And at least, probably because of the yoga connection and because I didn't lose my shit completely at her mistake, she comp'ed me the waxing.  

I felt so awkward not tipping her, but I think, under the circumstances, I couldn't really tip, could I?  Would be sending an altogether mixed message.  Based on her work on the right brow and the way she handled the problem, I will give her a second chance.

Because honestly, there has to be a way to replace Crazy and Good with Not-Crazy and Good.  Good doesn't mean I have to put up with Crazy.  And Not Crazy shouldn't mean Crap.  I'm nowhere close to giving up on the possibility that I have clean, even brows without dog drama or human drama.

I may be wrong but I'm not done trying yet.  And meanwhile, it's growing back.