Quinn barked, alerting me to the policeman striding along the path towards our house. After securing the dog, I opened the front door, my heart racing, my hands shaking, thinking, “The police only make house calls when they’ve bad news to share.”
“Have you seen any strangers lurking recently?” the officer asked. “Your neighbour reported some broken windows.”
My heart rate slowed as I realised the man was talking about windows and stones and not car accidents and deaths.
I hadn’t seen anything or anyone unusual on our quiet road, so I couldn’t help the officer. He left, and I returned to my writing. Then suddenly, I leapt off my seat. I’d forgotten the dye my daughter, Gemma-Rose, had applied to my eyebrows before she’d left for work. “Leave it for 20 minutes, Mum, and then wash it off.”
As I ran to the bathroom, searching for water and cleansing cloths, I remembered the policeman. Had my eyebrows looked strange when I’d opened the door to him? Surely not.
But when I peered at my face in the mirror, two thick, black, hairy caterpillars stared back at me. I giggled. What had the policeman thought? How had he kept a straight face? Did he have trouble keeping his eyes away from my brows?
A few years ago, I noticed my eyebrows were growing wild and white. “They’re making me look old,” I moaned to Gemma-Rose. I decided to get them waxed and tinted. My daughter decided to get her brows done, too, not because she’s old but because it’s a cool thing to do. Eyebrows have become something we share, like double-pierced ears and platform sneakers.
One day, to our dismay, our beautician left her job. How could she do that to us? Wasn’t she aware we depend on her to look after our brows? What were we to do? We bought some dye and applied it ourselves. And all went well until I came face to face with a policeman with my Frida Kahlo brows.
So, what’s the point of this story?
Tinted eyebrows can form connections between a mother and daughter. They can be a shared interest, providing problems we can solve together. They might generate many conversations about ageing, vanity, fashion and confidence.
It’s much better to giggle instead of feeling embarrassed. We can turn embarrassing moments into delicious stories that we’ll never forget.
Life can change instantly when bad news arrives, so we should be thankful when it doesn’t appear. Days when nothing much happens aren’t ordinary. They’re a gift.
And they might even be extraordinary. We just need to view them through the eyes of love.
Thank you!
A coffee always helps! Perhaps you’d like to support my work?
So, I’m wondering
Have you got a giggle-worthy embarrassing story you’re willing to share?
Has life ever changed for you or your family in a moment?
Do you share fashion and beauty with a daughter? Or maybe you have another shared interest?
Why not stop by and say hello?
