Oh, don't pretend like you don't have one!
So I went away this weekend upstate to visit the Dia: Beacon museum. It was incredible. A huge warehouse-type structure, naturally lit via huge skylights, housing an incredible collection of modern art.
On top of the awe I felt inside the museum, I was in absolute bliss thanks to the first true warmth I felt from the sun that day. I lay in the grass along the Hudson--grass!--thinking back to the simplicity of the works I had just experienced. Everything felt so bare and clean, and from that direct simplicity arose feelings of purity and sophistication.
I asked myself, “How could I apply this aesthetic to my beauty routine?” I joke about not “GAF,” but the, oh-I-just-don’t-try messiness is so obvious and juvenile. In fact, my stomach churns in stinging discomfort thinking back to how unrefined and boorish I had let myself become.
Grooming is an art form, and not all art can be leashed to social norms. In fact, are the best and most moving pieces not the ones that cause the most inquietude?
My face needed clarity, less clutter. I realized that, like plopping an Arby’s on an unadulterated stretch of Nevada highway, my brows were just cheap filth distracting from the neat and modest curvature of my face. It’s not until they’re removed that the true awe of human bone structure can be appreciated.
Sunday night, I stood in my bathroom and splashed warm tap water, perhaps the very same pure liquid that floated in waves past me on the Hudson the day before, onto my forehead. I massaged a few drops of Cade Shaving Oil into my brows, and began removing them with short strokes against the grain.
I felt liberated, no longer tied to my sheepheaded “uni.” I suddenly felt more aware, more mature. My irises seemed like they became at once faceted, and shades of blue, green, yellow, and grey that I had never noticed before shone bright, relieved from under the oppression of my dark, shadow-imposing brows.
I’ve seen a few friends since emancipating my forehead, and I knew I’d be met with some shock, and even a few eye rolls. That’s OK, though. I’m thankful to myself for trying something new, for now I know the joy of morning breeze against my bare forehead.
I see the staring, the double takes. Again, it’s OK. I’m not cowering behind thick, bushy eyebrows anymore. A wise man once said, “Never hide.” I will never hide again.
Lol, jk that was Ray Ban.