Waxing My Eyebrows

This post is gonna be weird. You could probably tell from the title. But it’s actually not really a post about beauty maintenance and it’s not going to end up lighthearted and silly and optimistic because I’m not feeling very lighthearted and silly and optimistic right now. But the title and the beginning kinda start out that way, I guess.

I did wax my eyebrows today. I’m not sure why I do it. I mean, even when we aren’t in quarantine, J doesn’t care if I do it or not. It’s not like there’s someone else out there I’m trying to impress like a lover or a boss or even customers or an audience (you guys don’t know what my face looks like). I notice when my eyebrows are getting a little…unkempt, and then I handle it. And J doesn’t notice. And The Boy doesn’t notice. And other humans who actually see my face (or did before quarantine) on a semi-regular basis don’t notice. And I don’t think anyone, regardless of the regularity they’d see me, would ever actually make a comment to me like, ‘Wow, Jen. You should totally have your eyebrows waxed, because DAMN!’ I do it. But no one notices but me.

And honestly right now I feel like my entire life is like waxing my eyebrows.

No one cares if I do or not. All the thoughts. All the work. All the writing. All the interaction. All the connection (or lack thereof, more than likely). I mean…why do I do any of it? Sure, for me. But I could write in a word processing document no one but me sees for me. And I used to do that. I wrote every day. I wrote all the time. Just for me. No one noticed it but me. I did it just for me. But now I’m writing books. I’m writing a blog. And the reason I’m doing those things is with the assumption what I write is going to connect with people. Other people are going to notice. It’s going to mean something to someone else that I do this.

But today, and not just today, but for a while…maybe a long while…it more feels like I’m just waxing my eyebrows. Maybe I should just go back to doing it just for me, because no one is really all that interested in what I have to say. How vain and arrogant of me to think anyone gave a shit in the first place, right? Saying it here on the blog or publishing the stories I make up in a book is starting to feel really useless and stupid and self-indulgent. I have a couple of friends today who are arguing with me that today’s just a bad social anxiety day and all of that’s just the bad social anxiety talking. But honestly? It’s not just today. I feel pointless and invisible and like I probably SHOULD be invisible. And just like waxing my eyebrows, I don’t really think anyone would notice or care if I just…stopped doing this.

Maybe I won’t stop doing it. Maybe I’ll do it just for me again. Maybe my friends are right (but it’s not looking or feeling that way to me today), and I’ll feel better tomorrow and feel like my existence and voice has a purpose again and isn’t totally conceited and narcissistic and self-involved and not totally ridiculous and dumb after a good night’s sleep or a cookie or something. But if I start to fade away or totally disappear…I mean…so what? Who cares if I wax my eyebrows or not? Probably nobody.

fading

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