She Broke Up with Me

She won't return my calls. I got her on the phone last week and told her I needed to see her and she said she'd call me back. She didn't. I called again a week later--perhaps she was busy and forgot to call--and left a message: "Hey, it's Laura. I'm hoping you have some time this week that we can get together. Give me a call back when you have a chance." Did I hear back? No. Clearly she doesn't want to see me again. I don't know why. And it sucks because she was the first eyebrow threader I'd seen. She taught me that waxing wasn't as precise and laid down a plan to get my eyebrows to their optimum shape, even if it meant filling them out a bit with eye shadow until all the hair grew back that waxing had taken away from me.

So now we're going on six weeks that I haven't seen her. I'm tweezing a little but it's really damage control at this point. I could go back to my waxer. She does a great job, but now I know about threading and it won't be the same. So now I have to find a new threader.

Every day that passes my eyebrows get worse, more unruly, like an unkempt yard. It's almost to the point that neighbors would start to complain or report me to the neighborhood association for not grooming properly, for threatening the value of their property. But I don't know what to do.

A friend told me of someone she knows in Beverly Hills. I hate Beverly Hills. My threader was a fifteen minute drive away, and next to a Starbucks! Where will I ever find that again? I don't know.

It's situations like this that make me question if there's a God and, if so, how he/she could be so cruel as to do this to me.

In the meantime, I guess I'll post an ad on Craigslist.