Friday Flashback - Plucking my eyebrows

Fall 1998, College Roomies - Arlena, Me, and April

Some of the scariest moments during my college years, surprisingly wasn’t when there was some creep hanging around the apartment complex I was living in, whom I eventually chose from a police photo line up, and was the only one out of a group of girls that identified him correctly (still VERY scary, I just didn’t fear for my life, though it left me with a tendency to have anxiety attacks for a while, but that’s a story for another Friday Flashback…), but they actually came from a job I had. 

I’m not sure how my roommate, Arlena and I even scored this job, but I was engaged to be married (not to John…) and wanted money, and was up for anything.  Even having my eyebrows plucked…

We agreed to help this older couple organize and clean their house.  She had a bad back and couldn’t do the things she wanted done, and her husband had just had some surgery where he wasn’t able to either.   Let’s just say he was the scariest driver I have ever ridden with.  (That last sentence should make my husband feel good…) 

He was old, nice, white hair, kinda chubby, kind face - that’s all I remember.  He picked us up in an old truck, and we had to sit in the front seat… Arlena and I next to him.  I want to say that neither of us wanted to sit in the middle close to him, and I’d like to think I was able to talk Arlena into sitting there… (“Don’t let Holly talk you into anything you don’t want to do.” I’m quoting one of my roommates and dear friends.  Do you know who  you are???)

Well, we were in Idaho where they still drive on icy roads.  Old man plus icy roads equals nervous college girls.  Arlena and I exchanged glances on that drive from our apartment to their house quite often.  Maybe thinking, “It was good to know you,” or “If you make it out alive, tell my family I love them.”   Other times we just tried to suppress our desire to giggle about the madness of it all.  Those drives were awkward.  I remember being chatty, and keeping up conversation, all the while not really wanting to be in that truck.  And I remember sitting as close to Arlena as I could so I wouldn’t have to be close to the old man.  I just remember, we were headed south (though, trust me when I say, at that time I had no idea what direction south was), and the truck fish tailing.  Those were always scary drives. 

Oh my goodness, the woman -  Did she wear sweatpants? Or those polyester pants that older women tucked their shirts into? Maybe both, my memory fails me there.  Her hair was short, tightly permed, and an orange-ish, gold-ey color with maybe even a hint of pink.  She climbed her basement stairs on all fours.  I’ll never forget having to follow her up the stairs.  Her pants were mint green (so, maybe polyester?). 

I don’t really remember much about her house, except it was decorated like my grandma’s but less country.  She was big into make-up.  She talked about appearances a lot.  She was talking to two girls not wearing make-up, we got it…  I think she looked at us like a service project, like it was her duty to help us.  I mean, I was engaged. Obviously someone found me attractive, but to no avail, my eyebrows had to be plucked.  She taught us where our eyebrows should begin and end, and where we should pluck.  Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever seen my eyebrows, but, I really don’t have any.  Nevertheless, Arlena and I plucked our eyebrows after work one day, dutifully following crazy lady’s instructions. 

I obviously survived those scary drives, and my eyebrows survived the plucking. 

And that, my friends, is why and when I started plucking my eyebrows. I knew you were just dying to know...