Pain. It’s a funny thing, innit. A bit subjective. My labour with my eldest was an induction. Sytocinion drip. No fecking about, 18 hours. THAT was painful, but even though I didn’t have any pain relief, save a bit of the ol’ entenox, it was allright. Excruciating, obviously, but manageable
Being in agony and ‘grooming’ seem to come hand in hand, which is a bit crap. I think my attitude towards personal grooming is “slap some concealer on, good girl yourself” I use makeup, badly, and I paint my nails, also badly. I am a really shit girl, I just can’t be arsed. I constantly have dark circles under my eyes and look knackered all the live long, but I’ve been told I look the same with makeup as without, so what’s the point really? The only thing I make an effort with is my hair. Straightening it, blowing it out (easy tiger). It used to be really poker straight until I fucked about slapping bleach on it, and dying bits of it bright colours and now it’s on the curly side of wavy. On a good day, I look all windswept, interesting and bohemian. On a bad day, I look like Leo Sayer. The girls in my form used to all thread each other’s eyebrows, in our form room before afternoon registration. We went to an all girl’s school, so I can only assume they wanted to scare their peers into submission with an upward flick of a brow rather than impress the opposite sex with a come hither stare. Because dating and flirting when you’re 15 is all about staring and giggling. On no account should you actually TALK to the object of your affection, do you understand? That’s how you get The Clap.
On Friday, my sister dragged me along to get my eyebrows threaded. She gets them done with my Mum every month, and decided that I (and I believe this is verbatim) “look like Wolverine”. Oh, you.
I kept asking her and Mum if it hurt. Mum has been through three child births. She said No. My sister has two tattoos on her massive feet. She said Yes. I have a high pain threshold, and I have loads of tattoos and two children “This will be a piece of piss!” thought I.
Reader, what a load of bullshit. Mate. M A T E. Absolute agony. Why does anyone do this on a regular basis? People who get this done willingly, are you fucking bonkers? When my torturer was done with my poor little face, I looked over to see my Mum and Sister smirking at me. I gave them the finger and mouthed ‘Fuck You’, because I am a genteel and graceful creature. This was at lunchtime, when writing this at 7:30 at night my poor, swollen face. Poor facey. Still so painful. I’d been bothering everyone at work by whimpering and pointing at my eyebrow region. They were not impressed. My torturer likened my poor beaten brows to Dracula’s. Eh? I recounted this to a friend, even he thought it was harsh, it’s not all in my head “Bloody hell. It’s BEAUTY therapy, not insult therapy” sez he. I laughed and said “That’s going on my blog, that is” (told you!)
And the kicker? I have a full fringe. You can’t even see my eyebrows.