Plucked Like A Chicken

Well I finally gave in to the inner voice and Did Something About My Hair. I was even to my eyes looking a lot like Methuselah's Aunty. It was something to do with the walking stick and the dullness of the gray hair. The aged visage I'm stuck with. I got rid of the stick and now I got rid of the gray. I actually gave myself a fright when I looked in the mirror this morning(I often get a fright when I look in the mirror but this was a real start). I had forgotten about my hair. The plucked part is the eyebrows. Curly (the friseur) was wittering on about my great bones!!! and how I needed something done with the eyebrows and would I step into the back room and she would fix them up. I did just that and next thing we have hot wax daubed on the virgin brow that was a second later brutally ripped off. Shriek! Then the next eyebrow was assaulted in a similar manner. Shriek again. Tweezers were whipped out and plucking ensued that brought a tear to my withered eye. Hell's bells!
Back in the salon I was shown the result and to my astonishment it did make a change for the better. Who knew?
I'm just waiting to see what happens when the salty pool water hits the coiffure. I am comforted by the fact that the eyebrows will remain gorgeous as they are all my own. Looking good is a bit of a pain.