Brows Or Bust

You guys. I’ve been sick as hell this past week. I thought I could push through and force this thing out of me until Friday night hit. I had the energy of a sea slug riding the struggle bus. I went to bed with the chills and woke up in the middle of the night with a fever. I got up to pee and ended up laying on the bathroom floor covered in sweat. When I woke up, I took my butt to the urgent care and got myself some antibiotics. I proceeded to spend the rest of my Saturday horizontal. I cannot remember the last time I was so worthless. Walking to the kitchen took all of my energy and I could barely eat. Luckily the antibiotics seem to be working because I woke up Sunday morning feeling better. By better I mean that I can stand for 5 minutes without requiring a chair and/or bed to crash in. I’m still far from 100%, but I think it is safe to say I am on the mend. *knocks on wood* My boyfriend was getting ready to take me to urgent care when I said, “Wait let me draw on my eyebrows first!” I walked my feeble body to the bathroom and did some speed eyebrow drawing. I also slapped on some mascara for good measure. Did this make me look any better? HECK NO. I still looked sick AF because I was sick AF! So, I have to ask myself why?! It was literally 7:15 in the morning on a Saturday. What was I so scared of?? First of all, half the world is barely awake at 7:15 on a Saturday. They surely aren’t at the urgent care. Second of all, who cares if they are?! If they are there, they are likely dealing with their own medical issue and could care less if I drew on my eyebrows that day. Lastly, if someone did see me in this state, it would most likely be a stranger so why does it even matter? It is in passing. It is someone who I may see for a few minutes and will never see again for the rest of my life. Why was it SO important for me to put on brows and mascara? I don’t really have an answer for this. I think it is just one of my underlying alopecia insecurities. Maybe one day I will give no fucks and not give it a second thought, but today I still give some fucks and brows and mascara is as minimalist as I get.

Shout Out To My Scary Face

This one is a shout out to what I kindly refer to as my “scary face”. The one that I’ve been most scared to share with anyone let alone the world. The one that felt unrecognizable even to me. The one that’s cried endless tears, felt endless guilt, and felt completely alone.I’ve apologized for this face when others have had to see it. I’ve looked at this face in complete disgust. Who is this? Where did I go? When will I come back? I’ve been angry at this face for being a part of me.This is a shout out to this face that didn’t give up on me. That held out hope when hope felt impossible. That just kept swimming when I was drowning. That slowly but surely became a part of me. That is a part of my story that I’m choosing to no longer hide. That is a part of my story that I am (dare I say) proud of.This is a shout out to my “scary face”.