All hope abandon, ye who are not microbladed. She done finally done had herses. And just like that, eyebrows. This is the first time I’ve had eyebrows in 27 years. Girl, if I had known microblading was an option, I would’ve done this ages ago, I mean, do I not look good. Yet another demonstration of why it’s sad and tragic I didn’t have a mom or an older sister or like a drag mother, some kind of guiding light, to help me ably bravely face the rigours of style, beauty, makeup and art. (Actually, scratch the drag mother part, since a drag queen would’ve encouraged the eyebrow shaving lol). More seriously though, I really did have to learn everything the hard way. Yet another demonstration of why Asha is so fortunate to have me, to care for her, to care about her, to help her and to guide her, the whole way, and I will do so doggedly, continuously, happily, with intention and skill. I’ll always care and I always will. It’s sad and tragic I never got to have that, but, in being for Asha what I missed out on having for myself, I kind of get to be so fortunate too, because being is as good as having, and giving is as good as getting, maybe it’s better.
Auditioning some new eyebrows. Think these ones are keepers. They’re the right size and shape and positioned and weighted well. Let me tell you it’s not easy creating and maintaining eyebrows that are right for you. It’s taken me my whole life. Ever since I made the adolescent error of shaving off my real eyebrows. Ever since I’ve had to draw the damn things in and this can take time. Sometimes one side is better than the other, sometimes they just don’t work out no matter how hard or carefully you try, sometimes they need constant maintenance and fixing throughout the day, sometimes hats or the bangs from wigs wipe them right off. This is an ongoing story, this perpetual struggle of eyebrows. When I look at pictures of some of my past work, when I was younger and far less astute, I’m embarrassed, taken aback, aghast. Like who let me leave the house looking like that. It’s like, guys, what the fuck. Makes me wonder who the hell I thought I was back then, and who the hell my friends were. Motherfuckers supposed to have my back, seeing as I was clearly incompetent and incapable of assessing things properly for my own self. I guess live and learn, right. Christ.