Don’t Thread on Me

But pampering always brings its buddy, high cost, along. Sometimes high cost and I don’t see eye to eye. When the two of us have our differences, I start looking for the beauty in conspicuous cuticles, exposed roots and disheveled brows.

If that proves impossible I seek out cheap. Cheap, unfortunately, has a belligerent attitude toward my dear friend quality. The two rarely agree with each other, until now.

Introducing Eyebrows “R” Us. I don’t have to tell you the area of focus here but you may not be familiar with the technique: threading, an alternative to waxing. Strings of thread are wrapped around individual hairs and pulled out. The ancient Indian method of hair removal doesn’t involve a drop of wax, which means no deafening screams of “Kelly Clarkson!” to be heard here.

Another thing you won’t find, however, is pampering. If the location doesn’t tell you that from the get go — Eyebrows counts Food 4 Less among its close neighbors — then it becomes clear soon after arriving, as I discovered.

Shila, a petite woman from Nepal who speaks in whispers, met me at the door and asked me to sign in. Before the ink could dry she began ushering me to another room but I abruptly stopped in my tracks. After hearing the price of the brows ($7!) my eyes started darting around the reception area until they landed on a menu. No harm in throwing another service into the mix at these prices. I asked Shila if she would also thread my upper lip. She nodded and attempted again to get me to the back room, this time successfully.

Walking through Eyebrows “R” Us reminded me of visiting a school friend’s house — a friend who had great toys but neglected her chores. The place had an messiness about it, but I knew I would get those pesky brows in order and rid of my Frida Kahlo ‘stache if I just looked past it.

As we made our way back I couldn’t help but notice the intriguing decor. Buddhas decorate the shelves and walls but so do old Martha Stewart books, a Barbie clock radio and cleaning tools. Before I could give it too much thought I heard a voice in my head say “pesky brows, Frida Kahlo ‘stache” and kept walking.

I parked myself in the barber’s chair and told Shila I wanted brows like hers — broad and bold. She whispered back that I don’t have enough hair to get her look but she’d do what she could. “Well, aren’t you special?” I thought.

She plucked a cotton ball from a plastic container full of them and rubbed it over my eyebrows. The cotton ball didn’t have any kind of solution or cream on it, just the ball. I still don’t know the purpose of the cotton ball and didn’t worry myself with it at the time because Shila dove right in with the thread. I tried to quiz her before — “So how does this work anyway?” — but couldn’t hear the answer through her heavy accent and didn’t care, either. I took comfort in the fact I had a woman threading my brows who learned the trade in her native country because “it’s just part of the culture” as opposed to someone who saw it on “Oprah” and added it to her wax services.

Shila pulled two very long pieces of thick thread from a spool that could’ve come from Michaels Arts & Crafts and asked me to use two fingers to spread and tighten the skin above my brow. Then she had at it. Unlike a wax pain which stings, this pain pinches.

“You OK?” she asked. Finally, and very momentarily, I had appreciation for that whisper, which I somehow found soothing. I answered her question with “ooh! ooh!” Most would interpret that as a distinct, “no I’m not OK” but she didn’t let it interrupt her work. Seconds later I studied her work in a hand mirror. Aside from the fact my face resembled my bathroom sink just after my boyfriend trims his goatee over it, I loved the result. As I dusted the hairs from my face with one hand, Shila grabbed the other and started showing me exactly how the process works on my arm. If I have a moustache growing in, you can imagine the amount of hair on my arms. Watching her work the webbed thread to pull and snap my arm hairs was fascinating but not enough to distract from the pinch. I smiled politely and spread the skin over my other brow.

I had the mini-me version of Shila’s beautiful butterfly brows and a bald upper lip about eight minutes after my arrival. No stinging, no redness. As she walked me out into the Buddha and Barbie clock-studded reception area, Shila told me to come back in two-and-a-half to three weeks for another round. Right about here I usually think to myself. “Yeah right, I can’t afford to see you every two and a half to three weeks, honey.”

But something — maybe my $11 grand total — told me I should get used to seeing and hearing whispering Shila on a regular basis. If cheap and quality can let go get along, I’m willing to let go of pampering.