It’s okay, everybody looks. I’m used to it by now.
I know you’re wondering a few things, because some of the more daring folks who notice my unibrow actually ask me questions about it, like I’m some sort of alien curiosity.
You’re wondering why an otherwise handsome fellow like myself would choose to let his eyebrows connect. You’re curious as to how long it takes to grow it in fully so it all looks even. You’re also wondering why if I have brown hair and eyebrows, why is the connecting brow an orange-red. I’ll field these inquiries in reverse for you.
Obviously, the orange-red brow is from the recessive genes I inherited. My mustache and beard grow in the same color, even though all the hair on my body is a deep brown. Why don’t I dye it to match, you may be thinking. Please pardon my bluntness, but don’t be an idiot.
Anyway, how long does it take to grow in so it all looks even? Three full lunar cycles generally gets me there. Of course, I do no grooming or maintenance until it is fully in, then I trim it all back to a reasonable length. I barely have to put any pomade in if I get it to just the right length. I shave off my unibrow every few years for a change of pace.
Finally, why would a good looking guy like me choose to grow out my unibrow? That question is at once offensive and a rude attempt at a back-handed compliment. What if I were to ask you why you an attractive person like yourself would choose that haircut, or choose to carry those 15 extra pounds? According to social norms, a unibrow represents lower class, unkemptness, and even mental retardation. But did you know that in some communities in South America and Eastern Asia, the unibrow symbolizes strength, vitality, and intelligence? Despite what you may think, a unibrow is not easy to grow in, it’s even harder to groom, and wearing it in this country is the hardest of all. But that does not diminish the pride I have for it.
But, really, if you must know why. When I was 8 years old, one night I woke up to the smell of smoke. Our house was on fire! My father burst through my door and I could see flames and smoke behind him. Without a word, he opened my bedroom window, which was on the second floor. He grabbed me and my hockey stick and told me to grab an end, and he lowered me safely to the ground to my mother. He went back into the house to my sister’s room and lowered her to the ground too. I remember lights and sirens and suddenly thinking that my father was trapped. I saw firefighters rush in and pull him out, but he was not breathing. He was there on the ground, covered in soot. Then I remember thinking that my hero, my father, was dead. But they were able to revive him within minutes and get him to breathe oxygen. The firefighter who risked his own life to save my father’s and who helped resuscitate him had a perfectly trimmed unibrow. I can still see it in my head today. I hugged him and thanked him for keeping my family alive and safe. As he walked away from the ambulance, he was hit by a falling airplane part and was immediately killed. It was pretty horrific, as he was latitudinally split in two right on our front lawn. His unibrow was no more.
So that is why I ‘choose’ to wear this unibrow, and that is why I choose to be a doctor. I determined right then and there to go to medical school because I wanted to help people like that brave firefighter did.
Anyway, I hope that satisfies your curiosity. Now that we got that all out of the way, are you ready for your botox injection, Mrs. Hemmings?
3 thoughts on “You’re Looking at My Unibrow, Aren’t You?”
I love these bits that are like a really good splitter; you’re cruising along and everything is going great and then as it reaches the plate the ball just suddenly plummets and you’re left swinging wildly at nothing but air.
The sports analogies are tough on me. Am I the pitcher here? Did you just strike out? Are we trying to win the pennant?
You strike out the world, Munchman. You strike out the world.