What wouldn't I do for the blog.

On Saturday I had a classic blog-worthy experience. It's funny how I now go through life aware of the blogging possibilities of my activities. I remember once a friend who was huge into scrap booking told me that she now takes specific pictures knowing that they would be good for a scrapbook layout. And,although I don't seek out crazy situations for you, my beloved blog audience, I don't shy aware from a potentially shady fiasco where a good story could be born.

This Saturday was classic. I'm on the hunt for a new computer...think I'm really ready to do the big switch-a-roo to Mac so I headed to the Mac store to do some research. I get to Bridgeport, my favorite mall in the area. It's an outdoor mall, with some pretty fantastically dangerous stores, which I mostly window shop. On the way there I caught a glimpse of my eyebrows in the rear view mirror. Wow, how long had I been living like this? Then I remembered that 3/4 of the little round bulbs in my bathroom above the mirror are burnt out. I wonder what else I've been missing...

So, I decide to stop in at the salon at Bridgeport to have my eyebrows waxed. I learned my lesson last time I went to the mall and has this done that the timing of the much needed wax is crucial. All shopping, looking, ordering of Jamba Juice and general walking around the mall must be finished prior to the wax. Shopping first, looking next, pick up a smoothie, get waxed and then make a beeline to the car. No stopping, no looking in the direction of others, no taking it personally when people take the long way around me. I have to keep in mind that my entire eyebrow area is fire red, a little swollen and maybe, just maybe I look like something that could be see on Star trek. You know, those unfortunate guys with the bumpy, protruding eyebrow bone.

I enter the Salon, a Barbie looking girl takes my name and tells me to return in an hour...perfect. When I get back to the salon for my appointment Barbie takes me back to meet the esthetician. Now, Barbie, other than being completely too tan and over bleached seems completely normal and treats the situation completely normal. I trust Barbie. Sure, she's a little overdone but really, she seems like someone I can trust when it comes to this sort of thing. She shows me where to sit and then she says it.

"Pierre will be with you in a minute...you are going to love him, he's the best."

"Great!" I'm thinking, Pierre, sounds so French, so official. Somehow when it comes to the salon situation being foreign gives him an edge in my mind. I trust a foreign guy with my eyebrows any day...he's the best (according to Barbie).

A moment later Pierre appears.

Not a lick over 5 feet he is shorter than me (which is hard to do), he has the most amazing faux-hawk, almost black with tiny blond (ok, they really look yellow) tips. Amazing. But that's not the best of it. The guy has...

...a unibrow.

Seriously, this is the guy who will be waxing my eyebrows? Does he not see his own? Is he going to make me look perma-surprised? What??? Oh, Pierre! For a split second I think about grabbing my bag and making a run for it. Really, I think I could do it...he couldn't catch me. 1. His legs are shorter 2. His is wearing three belts, that extra weight would slow him down and 3. He has a unibrow, not exactly the most aerodynamic facial hair choice.

But, then I thought of my blog, and the story that could be told. And that maybe, just maybe Pierre really is the best. I don't want to miss out on the best. And hey, I was prepared to go directly to my car, my shopping was done. So, I stayed. I sucked it up and Pierre did a great job. He told me that I have a fabulous natural arch to my brows and that my skin was a color he had always envied. HA! Pierre and I had a great talk. I asked about how he got into the business, etc. I even asked about the three belts, which he says is a European flair that he just comes by naturally (whatever). But I couldn't get up the courage to ask him about the unibrow. I don't know what got into me folks, I froze.

And that, that is what I wouldn't do for the blog. I wouldn't question a tiny male ethetician about his unibrow. I let that moment pass. And I am oh, so sorry.