a three-footnoter.

by dorarandom

my birthday is on saturday! i don’t have “anything planned” but i’m excited. and i always thought i would dread 30, but it’s true what they* say—it is an unexpectedly awesome milestone. it’s like all the pressure is officially off. and it’s such an unambiguously adult age i do not feel obligated to answer my phone to talk to any relatives i don’t feel like talking to. and i feel a little lucky/shocked that i didn’t bite it in my 20s. and i get to leave that whole miserable (long) decade** behind. and i was just about to start writing about how i came from one of those families where opening gifts was a high-stress performative event (for the child[ren])—that is, it was very important to be very grateful and descriptively enthusiastic about every present you got—and how that necessarily soured me on the birthday thing for a long time, and it was so nice to be over that—well, it was that plus my mother’s birthday narcissism §.

i was just debating whether it was really right to say that my mother was narcissistic and i see that she has sent me pictures of herself with brand-new permanently(?) tattooed-on eyebrows.

i was also just about to tell you that [apparently] i’m going to get a decent/decent-enough reimbursement on the claim for my intimate botoxing so i was thinking i might celebrate my 30th by blowing some money on a new tattoo.

that’s a lot of coincidence at once, imaginary reader.

anyway. the eyebrows: wow. i don’t even.

they look absolutely bizarre. the color. the shape. i did not know what to say. (WHAT HAVE YOU DONE did not seem appropriate.) i said that since she now had face tattoos i never wanted to hear any moaning about my tattoos ever again. and i added a smiley emoticon so it could seem like i was joking.

maybe the eyebrows will look less bizarre in person or in time—i have no idea—i’m not clear on how permanent the ink or the current color is supposed to be—also the ‘micropigmentation’ slash permanent cosmetics industry does not seem very well-regulated or coherently-credentialed to a big snob like me—and though this opinion is based on only a light googling—it is so new and at the moment it is a fad.

i feel bad (?)—no, i just wish that i did (?)—but i am really laughing at my mother right now and i am in an incredibly good mood.

(and in case you are feeling down, imaginary reader, might i suggest a google search for “eyebrow fail”?)


* not all of them, of course, but the smart ones. back when i was 18-19 i had a blog and there was a guy who was one of my main correspondents who told me a lot of truly comforting things about how much he enjoyed being in his 30s. i don’t remember the context—probably i was depressed about turning 19 because it was further confirmation that i wasn’t mozart or something—but whatever it was, this guy pierced through my angst with good sense. (suddenly i am inspired to google him, but i forget his last name…)

** like when people talk about the long 19th century, etc. my 20s started at 17.

§  kind of like michael scott—except not funny or loveable.