As a child, there was one thing my mother could do that would simultaneously make my blood run cold and my vision blur with tears: The Eyebrow.
I always knew my mother’s stages of agitation. If she middle-named me (“Ev-e-line-Ma-RIE!“), I still had time to continue whatever I was doing before Nuclear Meltdown and my rear-end would look like Chernobyl. But the moment she became very very quiet and turned her eyes on me with one arched brow and eyes staring daggers into my very soul, I knew it was only moments before I was going to meet Jesus in my ratty flip-flops and orange 80s plaid polyester pants if I did not immediately cease and desist my antics. Only once did I ever test that Eyebrow. Once was all it took. I was a fast learner.
As I got older and into my teens, I am thankful to say my mother had less cause to Eyebrow me. Of course, I was also much better at hiding my misdeeds from her (or so I thought). I didn’t do much to earn her rebuke but I did have occasion to study the way she used this powerful tool to Continue reading “The Power of the Brow”