It’s a strange mood barometer, but there you have it. From my early teens, eyebrow grooming has been something that I have done regularly. Not that pluck and thin obsessively, you understand – I have nicely shaped eyebrows anyway – but I loathe the feel of straggly, out of place eyebrow hairs. It’s just something that bugs me. So, aside from the usual indicators, the state of my eyebrows demonstrates the level of my depression.
If I feel like shit, I can’t be bothered tidying them, and little stray eyebrow hairs crop up; even though they annoy me, I can’t find the motivation to spend the 10 minutes necessary to tidy them. Conversely, when I am feeling less depressed, somewhat normal, the annoyance of one (just one!) out-of-place eyebrow hair can drive me to pluck, tidy and comb until my eyebrows are back to their immaculate state.
So, right now, my brows are smoothly perfect after a few months of gradually growing out of control, so I guess I’m feeling one hell of a lot better.