“Four words for you: As seen on TV. LOL. You know those random gadgets stacked in the Walmart checkout aisle? Well, I had one of those—an eyebrow trimmer—from the infamous “As Seen on TV” section. It sat untouched in my bathroom cupboard for over two years, still boxed up and completely forgotten. I usually get my eyebrows waxed, so there was never really a reason to open it… until now.
The other night, I came home to find my husband, Tommy, had discovered it. He had it fully unboxed and was happily using it on his mustache. When I walked in, he looked at me and said, “What the heck?! Why haven’t you ever opened this? It’s awesome!” I just laughed to myself and thought, Well, at least someone’s getting use out of it.
The next morning, I spotted the trimmer sitting on the counter and figured, What the heck, why not? Oh boy. Famous last words.
It started off great. I tackled the mustache, then those stubborn little hairs above the temples that aren’t quite eyebrows but love to exist anyway. Feeling confident, I moved on to the dreaded unibrow hairs. Everything seemed perfectly fine—until I leaned in closer to the mirror to admire my work. I slightly shifted my hand out of the way of my view, and unfortunately, it hovered right over my right eyebrow. All I heard was one terrifying sound: buzz.
At first, I didn’t fully process what had just happened. Then I looked down at the trimmer and saw it—packed with hair. Not a little. FULL. Like, full-full-FULL. That’s when I started whispering, “Oh no… oh no… oh no,” each time growing louder. I looked back up at the mirror, and there it was. The damage was done.
I had shaved off HALF of my right eyebrow. Not a trim. Not a mistake you could barely notice. I’m talking stubs. Buzzed completely off. All that remained of my once perfectly good brow were tiny black dots where hair used to live.
Tommy heard the panic and rushed in to inspect the scene. He smiled—respectfully—and did his absolute best to hold back laughter. Meanwhile, I was already irritated with my day, and this disaster just sent me right over the edge.
To make matters worse, we were supposed to head into town to run errands. There was absolutely no way I was going out in public missing half an eyebrow. Thankfully, praise the Lord, we had just gotten an Ulta nearby. I remembered seeing ads for this magical brow pen and immediately made Tommy reroute our plans and drive me there before doing anything else.
When we walked in, a woman was handing out coupons. I grabbed one and figured she’d know if they carried the pen since she worked there. She looked at me like a deer in headlights, started stuttering, and then turned to ask another employee for help. That employee took one look at me and suddenly announced she had an “emergency in the back” and couldn’t assist us. Excuse me?! I need makeup. You sell makeup. Help a sister out!
Thankfully, a worker from the back overheard everything and kindly pointed us in the right direction. Bless him—they had it. I grabbed the pen and headed straight to the checkout. By then, I was finally calming down, feeling relieved, and even starting to laugh at myself. But only because I now had hope.
I handed the pen to the cashier and said, “I need this because I just shaved my eyebrow off.” I expected at least a chuckle. Something. Anything. Instead? Dead silence. She barely looked up at me. Listen—I’m standing here in a vulnerable moment, admitting my eyebrow crime, buying my only possible fix, and you can’t even laugh with me?! Where is your holiday spirit?!
So if you see me rolling into Thanksgiving dinner looking like a half-carved turkey, don’t be surprised. With the family I have, I’ll never hear the end of it. “Toni! Oh wait—is that you?” I can already hear it. If you catch a glimpse of me this holiday season, don’t be alarmed. It’s still me—just a new, brow-pen-applying, slightly-less-eyebrow-having version of myself.”
