So…I’m not the brightest crayon in the box

While my hair color may be brown, but I really do act quite blonde at times. Over the 30 years of my life, I’ve had some moments that would make even the most ditzy blonde seem like a rocket scientist. You all know that I can be quite silly; heck, laughter is my favorite thing to do. So, laughing at myself, of course, is something that happens quite often. Yes, I am a fan of self-depricating humor.

You have to be when you’re me.

I have had so many funny things happen to me, it’s beginning to be hard to keep track. But during a recent Twitter conversation, I remembered what is perhaps one of my dumbest moments of all time.

If they have something similar to the Darwin Awards for blonde moments (and I was blonde at the time), I probably would have won it for this. Enjoy!
During my senior year of college, late one Saturday night, I found myself very bored. I thought that I should be all beauty conscious and pluck my eyebrows. But as I looked at my eyebrows, I wondered if there was an easier way to do it.

I didn’t have any wax on my hands, and being sometime after 10:30 p.m. (I only remember because my roommate was watching Saturday Night Live), I really didn’t want to rush off to Wal-Mart. Instead, I dug around in my bathroom caddy and found something that could work: a bottle of Nair left over from formal earlier that year.

Now, I’m sure all of you, who have way more common sense than I apparently have, are thinking to yourselves, “Mindy, please do not write what I think you’re about to write.”

For that, I would like to apologize in advance.

Blatantly ignoring the warning on the bottle that says, “DO NOT EVEN THINK OF USING THIS ON EYE BROWS UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE THE LAUGHING STOCK OF YOUR UNIVERSITY!” I pulled out a Q-tip and deftly applied the Nair to the spots I wanted to remove.

Anyone who has ever used Nair or any other dipilatory can attest that when applied to any part of your body, it fricken burns. No, this isn’t like when your brother gives you an Indian burn or when you get carpet burns from….well, you know. It fricken burns like the unholy flames of hell are unleashed upon your skin, and when it’s on your eye lids, I’d say it’s magnified times a gadzillion.

I didn’t even make it the 10 minutes you’re supposed to have it on your skin. After about five or six minutes, I grabbed a washcloth and wiped it off…along with nearly all of my left eye brow and half of my right.

Yeah, you did read that right. Wiped those suckers right off my face.

I would have rather gone Mona Lisa and taken them all off because a person with 1/2 of one eye brow and 1/4 of the other looks a bit more bizarre than someone with none.

My roommate must have heard whatever sound of terror I made. She came out, took one look at my wonky eye brows and doubled over laughing. Well, at least I brought joy into her evening.

By the time Monday rolled around, nearly all of campus knew about my eye brows. The only thing I could do was draw on the other half of my eye brows. Of course, I took dance that semester, so some days I’d sweat off the eye brows, leaving brown streaks down my face. To quote Johnny Bravo, “Man, I looked pretty.”

It took ages for my eye brows to grow back, and when they did grow back, they did so in patches. I had bald spots for what felt like decades. They’re okay now. Looking at me, you couldn’t even tell that I had a run in with Nair.

Even though that has come and gone, I can pretty much assure you that it won’t be my last blonde moment.

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