Flashback!

June 19, 2008 · Filed under i'm a dork, okay back to me

At some point today, I am going to get my eyebrows waxed. I haven’t gotten it done here in yet. So for 3 years, I’ve plucked them myself, or just let them grow. When I lived back home, the same girl that did my hair, did my eyebrows, because I am a freak and have eyebrow issues.

 

Oh yes. I said eyebrow ISSUES. You see, I have a technical extra eyebrow. When I was in the third grade, I was playing softball in the backyard with friends, and I was pitching. I threw the ball for Kyle to hit, and he did. Stupid boy. It was a line drive directly at my face. I missed getting my mitt up by about a quarter of a second, and the ball hit my glasses. They flew off my face, slicing through my eyebrow on their way to the ground.

While I’m trying to find my glasses, and hold my eye in my head (all I felt was pain, and all I saw was blood) I heard my sister running around screaming “CALL 9-1-1!! CALL 9-1-1!!  Of course, I found this to be exaggerated, because really? An ambulance for a missing eye? Come on now! But Mom, being a “good” mom took me to the ER anyway. We were there for, oh, forever before they called me back, because they deemed my face pouring blood to not be much of an emergency. (I’ve since learned this is a normal procedure in ERs. Blood is not an emergency, it’s not like you need it to live or anything!) By the time they got to me, the bleeding had stopped, and we could see how not really bad the cut actually was. Don’t get me wrong, it was still really really bad, but I was not going to lose my eye. (Which would have been cool, my left eye is pretty much just for decoration anyway!)

 

Nine big ugly blue stitches later, I was sent home. I had to walk down to Kyle’s house because his mom had called to check on my and said that Kyle felt horrible. (Not his fault I’m uncoordinated. This wouldn’t be my last softball injury. I had years to go!) I talked to him to let him know I was fine, but I was telling everyone at school that it was his fault. It didn’t matter. Everyone was already making fun of me. I had thick glasses, the year before I had to wear an eye patch, and all kinds of nerdy stuff. The big ugly blue stitches just made it worse. It was only a few days though. Then I’m sure someone else was picked on for something that they couldn’t help. We were 7 and 8 you know!

Once I got old enough to start shaping my eyebrows, I realized I had a problem. The scar from my stitches literally makes my left eyebrow split in two. It became difficult to shape them myself, and look right. Luckily, When I turned 17 I found the greatest hairstylist. She would continue to do my hair and adjust my eyebrows for the next 5 years. My third eyebrow was never an issue.

 

The stitches incident occurredin 1990. In 2001, eleven years later, some tall semi-goth looking guy walked into the store where I worked and turned in an application. I liked working at the service desk, because we collected the applications, and would leave notes about the turner-inners appearance for the hiring girl. (Who’s son was one of my first “boyfriends” because I lived in a REALLY small town!) As I begin to write out the note that said the guy was not cute and please do not hire him to work in our department, I read the name. He had the same name as my Kyle from second grade. I noticed he had listed one of our cashiers, who I also went to elementary school with, and was good friends with my best friend growing up. I go over to talk to him, to find out if it WAS my Kyle, and he said that Kyle had asked if it was ME.

 

I had to look past the fact that he looked like a dork. After the initial “what have you been up to”s, I started telling EVERYONE about the baseball incident. I have NEVER been known to be a nice person. Of course, I was sweet about it. He had told me that I give the best hugs. (Which I’ve heard before. I don’t know what makes a “good” hug, but whatever…) One day, he came in to pick up his check, and had a HUGE cast on his arm. I was very curious to find out what happened, but didn’t get a chance, because it was a Friday, and Fridays at a place that cashes payroll checks SUCK.

 

Toward the end of my shift, I saw the guy that was Kyle’s team leader, and thought to ask HIM about it. Good ol’ Mr Green. He told me that he had heard about what Kyle had done to me, and since I was his favorite SC (head cashier type person) he had broken Kyle’s hand. (In reality, Mr Green had hit Kyle’s hand with a hammer while they were building a display. But I love the chivalry involved in the lie. That’s the kind of lies people should tell!) Poor Kyle.

 

To this day, I still have to be careful how I have my eyebrows done, because the third one likes to make appearances from time to time. I’m the only person I know who sometimes has to hair spray their eyebrows. Or I just have it waxed off, but then the other one has to be shaped accordingly. Because Crooked Eyebrow already stole that blog title!