Today’s my birthday and I’m treating myself to a somewhat troubling post. Nearly escaping the 30s, my eyebrows, growing bristly by the month, give my look a Sorcerer vibe, if left unchecked. Cool, but not.
While not a Sorcerer, Andy Rooney may be the archetype.
Having left 60 Minutes this year, in October, I’m reminded of his absence. I’m also reminded to tend to my eyebrows.
And this is all so new to me, this errant eyebrow crap. Please understand. I was a towhead, my eyebrows nearly translucent for the greater part of my life. I realize, too, that this is primarily a male concern, hopefully.
So getting older doesn’t have to reflect those insipid cards, belittling lost youth. Stay silly, and leave room to make fun of those hay bale eyebrows.