Skip to main content

The Allegory of the Eyebrow

I can remember quite vividly the exact moment when I first looked at eyebrows. I mean, really looked at them and thought about them. I was sitting the passenger seat of a jeepney, the dominant form of public transportation in the Philippines, looking at myself in the side view mirror. I realized suddenly that there was hair growing on my forehead. All my life I had never given a second thought to these two strange patches perching confidently above my eyes, but now they seemed alien and bizarre. I began looking at the people around me – the Filipino driver next to me, the other passengers seated in the back waiting stoically for their destination to at last arrive, various people on the side of the road. They all had eyebrows! For some reason I found this incredibly odd.

When you think about it, the bottom of your forehead seems a bit of an unlikely place for two distinctly shaped growths of hair to inhabit. I recognize, of course, their functional purpose. Not only do they block stuff like sweat, but they actually help you sense when something is getting uncomfortably close to your eyes. I had no idea! I'm grateful for the protection they've given me. Without my eyes, I wouldn't be able to see all sorts of things that I love, like “The West Wing” or those cool Magic Eye posters. But honestly, helpful or not, they just look weird.

While far from being the most disgusting part of the external body (a title which indisputedly belongs to the feet), eyebrows can really be distracting. After all, its hair on your face! And not facial hair that might make you look sexy in a rugged way when stubbly, or creepy in a crazy man / false prophet way when long. No, this is the kind of facial hair that has the potential to make you look like a wolfman or a goat. And no matter what anybody might say to the contrary, you ain't gonna get no lovin' if you look like that.

Like most men, for many years I did not think that my eyebrows required any upkeep. I would have to say that out of all my readily accessible body parts, my eyebrows definitely receive the least amount of attention. I brush my teeth every day, wash and scrub the dirt from my skin, keep my hair groomed, clip my nails, and even occasionally clean the wax out my ears. And yet my eyebrows get no attention! Because, really, what can you do with eyebrows?

Well, according to my friends Eleka and Mr. MG, turns out there's plenty to be done. A lot of us guys let our eyebrows grow wild, like an untended garden or vineyard. (We love vineyard allegories in our culture so I'll go with that). If the vines go without attention, if they are not shaped or guided by the hand of a loving master, then they'll turn into a wild mess that cannot produce good fruit. Are you following me here? You're grasping the metaphor? Good.

One of the most common problems is that the eyebrows,perhaps feeling lonely or isolated, all too often reach out for one another, creating a very unsightly union just above your nose. Now, I don't know about you, but for me nothing says “neanderthal” quite like the infamous unibrow. I may just be paranoid but I feel like no matter how witty or clever I may be, people will still think I'm stupid if my eyebrows cannot be distinguished from each other. The problem is that for many years I, like so many other members of my gender, never even noticed that this was happening! Once pointed out to me, I reacted with justifiable horror and indignation. The unibrow had to go.

Apart from that, the brows had just begun to creep beyond their natural borders with the result that a few straggling hairs were popping up here or there in a messy and disordered way. Remember the vineyard analogy; the vines must be guided and organized. So I did what had to be done. I got out the hot wax. What more could I have done for my vineyard?

Yes, I was skeptical. After all, real men do not wax. However, as it seemed the quickest and most efficient option (and those are big sticking points for me, since I'm so lazy), I sucked it up and gave it a shot. And I'm here to testify that it wasn't all that bad and the results were highly impressive. I was amazed at how much such a small adjustment to the often ignored eyebrows altered and improved the aesthetics of my entire face. I was quite pleased, and have resolved to give my poor neglected brows a little more attention on the future. I have seen the light and have repented, and shall go my way and sin no more.

And blessed am I; for because I have been diligent in laboring in my vineyard, and have brought again the good fruit, that my vineyard is no more corrupted, and the bad is cast away, behold I shall have joy because of the fruit of my vineyard.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I had a friend who loved to talk to me about plucking eyebrows. I mean, this kid would spend HOURS on end talking about different techniques used to shape and mold the eyebrow. Like, did you know that you should only pluck hair from the top and not the bottom? I don't know if that's really true or not, but that's what he told me.

I also learned everything I know about shampoo and conditioner from this man. Wash your conditioner out with cold water. It helps it retain the shine. Oh, the joys of metrosexualism!

Don't worry Matt, I pluck my unibrow as well. Fortunately, it's blonde, so it rarely gets very noticeable. Not to say that yours is. In fact, I never even noticed that you had one.
Anonymous said…
Hmm, and what do we give this last blog.... D? D-? How about F? Hints taken, 0. So what are you going to do now?! Plan B? SJ
PS- no, Ben, Matt doesnt have a unibrow... that was a thing of the long past. Didnt you get that part? Hes changed now, hes a better man than that!
Anonymous said…
You actually should ONLY pluck from the bottom, not the top MORON!
Anonymous said…
Well, thanks for that advice, Mr. Ad-Homimen. Next time I see my ambiguously gay friend, I'll tell him that he was wrong all along. The bottom only! What was he thinking? I guess we're not supposed to pluck from the "top moron" afterall.
Matt Haws said…
Now now, lets keep it civil, boys.

You seem to have a lot of ambiguously gay friends, Ben. Just saying.
Anonymous said…
Who says they are both boys? Maybe one is a girl! SJ

Popular posts from this blog

I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent...

I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent. Though, despite the elaborate disguise Consisting of a single pair of bent, Simple specs, they're not two different guys But only one, still I said what I meant: I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent. I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent I guess because one of them's more like me And does not always get what he wants And struggles with our vulnerability. And does not by his perfection command The adoration of every woman and man But sits in the back, with nothing to say Just hoping that Lois Lane looks his way. She doesn't - her eyes are glued to the sky. Wake up, Lois! Can't you see the guy Waiting to love you with all of his might? He may not leap buildings, he may not fly, He may not see through you with x-ray eyes, He might need YOUR help, if that's alright, From time to time, when his mortal heart cries. He combs his hair neatly and fights through the crowd, Decides what to say, and rehearses out loud, He summons his ...

The Only Thing We Have to Fear...

It's October, which means not only do I get to start dipping into my nifty fall wardrobe but also that Halloween is upon us. I think its great that we devote specific holidays to various basic emotions of the human psyche. Halloween = fear, Valentine's day = love, Thanksgiving = gratitude, St. Patrick's Day = envy, and Christmas = greed. We're just missing wrath, lust, pride, sloth, gluttony, and inadequecy. Clearly, more holidays are necessary. But that's a subject for another day. We don't want to give Halloween less than its due. Because seriously, how cool is Halloween? Its way off the scale on the cool-o-meter. When else can you see even the most pious and sensible people indulging in a little of the supernatural and occult by dressing up their children as vampires, witches, or ghosts? Well, that's how it was back in my day anyway (which was soooooo long ago), but today kids dress up as Jedi, princesses, Harry Potter, or Spiderman. They are totally miss...

God Bless Us, Every One

Call me a Scrooge, but I've found that the last couple of years Christmas just hasn't carried the same sense of wonder and excitement it once did. When I was a kid, I was ready to pee my pants every day in December just thinking about the twenty-fifth, which crept closer so slowly that the month was always filled with blissfully tortuous anticipation. The sense of suspense, the agony of not knowing what the fantastically wrapped boxes contained, was only heightened by the lights, the music, the snow, and everything you knew meant it was Christmas time. Back then, my heart's desires cost about twenty bucks and, tragically, seemed both completely unobtainable and the key to my whole life's happiness. This was the season, then, when miracles of a very practical kind could happen; objects only admired on the shelf, or at a friend's, or in some abstract sense of obsession could literally become my own and wind up, eventually, in pieces somewhere in my closet. I like to c...