I have been growing out my eyebrows so that I can then go have them shaped and up my eyebrow game. Thing is the possibility of having them messed up and done wrong has paralysed me so much that every time I look in the mirror I think to myself, ‘let me grow them out a while longer.’ The possibility of having crooked, mismatched eyebrows will upset me way more than I care to experience so I just keep postponing.

Now here’s the thing: unless I am going for a new bushman, cave-girl kind of look I must get the eyebrows trimmed and shaped and whatever not. What I am putting off is inevitable. Postponing it is just dumb, and I risk looking like a cave-girl. Mercifully thick brows are back in, or so I hear, but they must be shaped neat regardless! So again, putting it off is just dumb, bushman-y, and cave-girl-y.

What does that have to do with life, asks one.

There’s a decision you must make. A job to take, or a job to leave. A person to help, or a person to not help. A lover to take or a boot to give.  An opportunity to cash in on, or a project to let go of.

But the chance that your decision just might be the wrong one paralyses you. You stand there, in your thoughts, and examine the angles to this decision variously. Or so you think you do, because you come out with nothing still.

You want to make this big decision, you know you must. Everyone knows you must. So they are all thinking what’s this fool waiting for? But even more important, you know you’re fool for not making a decision on this matter. You’ve got to make a decision one way or the other. You know you have to. But you wait. Then you make up your mind, but then you second guess yourself so you  wait some more. Then you make up your mind, then change it again. Day turns into night, and the days turn into weeks, the weeks turn into months. Now not only does everyone think you’re a fool, they start to say so too. To your face. So not only do you think you’re a fool, but everyone else thinks so too, and now they are saying it, and now you just might start believing it. Then you enter a panic mode, that paralyses your brain even further. And then you can’t think straight, so you think waiting a little longer makes sense. You tell yourself you need to get your ducks in a row first. You tell yourself you need to put something’s in place first. So you wait some more. You feel you’re doing a lot of thinking but there’s no physical evidence of your lots of thinking. So now they stop saying it to your face, that you’re a fool, but you see it in their pitying eyes.

But ducks move slow. They waddle along. And muddy themselves in the puddles. And waddle some more. The ducks refuse to get in a row.

And you see it in their eyes. Those eyes are saying, “You’re a fool, truly.” And now you can’t look them straight in the eye, not for long anyway, so you hide. Those pitying eyes. Those questioning, pitying eyes.

Yes, my eyebrows indeed. Just decide. Simply to decide. How did a word so simple become a thing so hard. So the next time I look in the mirror, I am making up my mind.

[Edit:] The first commenter that responded to this post totally missed the gist of this whole thing up there, basically exclaiming about how eyebrows could be such a huge deal, and giving me some psychobabble about ‘inverting stress’. I trashed his comment. 😛 People without a sense of humour or imagination just irk me. If you think this post is about eyebrows (lol) go spend your day in some other corner of the internet. They might appreciate your patronising psychobabble there.

[“Gasp! No, she didn’t!” “Yes, I just did. I own this house!”]

Hello, to the rest of you, fellow humans! 🙂