Tweezers: A Cautionary Tale

Yesterday I shared with you a headshot I had taken as part of our annual sitting for our family Christmas photos.

No no, no need to scroll back up to go stare at it. I'm about to share it with you again.

You see, when I saw the images for the first time -- about eight or nine of them of me solo, all told -- I kept asking myself, "Grass, why do you look so weird? What is it about your face that looks so ... OFF?"

And after looking at each picture, and looking away, then looking back at the pictures, then looking away -- then looking at NORMAL WOMEN, then looking back at the pictures of myself -- I finally nailed it: I'd tweezed my right eyebrow into oblivion at some point in the recent past, and basically it was halfway gone.

Like, MISSING.

Like, Put A Picture Of It On A Milk Carton, Call The Police, Tack Up A Wanted Poster, KIDNAPPED.

I performed a highly scientific measurement test: I held my index finger up to my left eye, and my eyebrow extended out beyond the end of my almond-shaped eye.

I held my index finger up to my right eye, and my eyebrow stopped an entire quarter-inch SHORT of the edge of my eye. We are talking a difference in length of EPIC PROPORTIONS, Internet.

And not only in length, but also in arch. In ARCH.

Just, don't ask. Please don't ask.

And now it has all been preserved for eternity on our 2013 Christmas cards. And on my blog.