Archives for July 2020

This time last week I was standing in the 31st St. parking lot. The remnants of fireworks strewn all around, paled by comparison to the sparks I was feeling. I was on my first face-to-face meeting with a guy I met on a dating app called Bumble.

After a morning walk along the lakefront, I decided to dive in and meet him au naturale with the hopes that he would be solely attracted to my heart. Baring no make up and letting my guard down, we laughed and talked for 20-30 minutes, an awesome follow up to hour plus conversations on the phone. What would normally seem like torture in July’s 80 degree temps, felt fine like a summer breeze. We “clicked.” Internet pun intended. We parted with the strong possibility of booking our next trip (meeting). A polite text, “It was such a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to seeing your smile again…soon.” and a few more phone conversations later, and we were on our way. He planned our first official date. I moved through the week buzzing with excitement. Friday finally came and with a new hairdo, new dress, and new shoes in tow I arrived…only to go from floating like a butterfly to being stung, like a bee.

It wasn’t like he was Ivan the Terrible or anything. He was, and is a great guy. He brought a ray of sunshine through the window of this shelter-in-place summer. It’s funny how much more getting out of the hives of our lives means now. But masks aside, the line between boundary and barricade is indeed thin. What’s too much to ask? What’s too little to expect? Cupid must have a side hustle as a baggage handler with all that is carried from one relationship destination to another. So much so that I’m wondering if I missed love’s flight because I refused to check my own bags in. But the turbulence of being stood up left me feeling unsafe to move about, wondering if this was destined to only go one way. So I made a beeline for the nearest exit. The black box (cellphone) revealed that he was willing to meet a few hours later, but I feared that the way this thing took off is exactly how it would land. Flattery may get you everywhere, but who wants to travel with just peanuts? I want, and I’m willing to give– first class. My head held high, my heart slightly worse for the wear, I must keep my eyes on The Captain…and believe that my Honey is out there…somewhere.

“They (God’s Words) are to be desired more than gold, than much pure gold; they are sweeter than honey, than honey from the honeycomb.”
Psalm 19:10

Few people knew it happened.
The experience has no doubt left its mark on me.

Led through a side door and down unfamiliar stairs, to say I was nervous is an understatement. As I closed my eyes and saw the hand slowly covering my face I thought two things: Lord please don’t let me sneeze. And please let me like my eyebrows. Exactly two weeks ago today, I went to Arched Beauty for microshading, “a tattooing of small points along the browline to ‘shade’ in sparse areas” (harpersbazaar.com).

While briefly waiting for owner and operator Shantell to sanitize and set up for my services, I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a dictionary and GED study guide on a nearby shelf. A bookworm, I am generally comforted by all things academia. My calm was short-lived, however, at the application of numbing cream and the announcement, “Here is your unopened needle.” Surely the shocked raise in the little brows I did have, rivaled the Gateway Arch of St. Louis. “Dang, this is like a real procedure” I thought to myself. I stammered and struggled with small talk, subtly slipping in questions about her years of experience. There was no need. She was professional, her own brows fabulous and eyes focused on the canvas of my face. Shantell is nothing less than an artist. I tried to lie still as a corpse, imagined death by dye and lamented, “Well at least if something happens my face will be fierce.” I focused on the music that was faintly playing. Some young man was singing about his trust issues, how all he needed was some closure– asking a girl to come closer, tellin’ her she don’t need to take no Uber…

Before I knew it I trusted her and was taking a nap. Shantell had me so relaxed that I was in the palm of her hand, literally. Somewhere between the lyrics of Ashanti and Arianna Grade, us singing to her iTunes brought the difference in our ages closer. Soon we found a rhythm and she shared more while I rambled less. A bad experience getting her own brows done led to her learning and lending her talents to others. When she finally finished and showed me to the mirror I almost immediately loved the new shape of my brows. They have since gone through a peeling and itching stage and will lighten in color about 50%. I think I would get them a little thinner if I were to have them done again. But I like them! It was definitely an adventure. Turns out the brows I had, what God gave me– was enough, just maybe needed a little help to frame my face. Beyond my own looks I admire Shantell and I left proud of her and her entrepreneurial spirit. Suddenly my shut eyes and closed mind were able to focus more clearly on the sparkly fabric, decorative throw pillow and cool logo of this self-made salon and young businesswoman. Most of all I was able to see and appreciate her determination, drive, and the dream she is achieving. Her beauty was in the eye of this beholder.

Psalm 119:37 “Turn my eyes away from worthless things; preserve my life according to your word.”

For more information and to book your brow appointment please visit:
Arched Beauty
https://shantell402.wixsite.com/archedbeauty