At the age of 15, once life had already become sufficiently awkward, it was finally decided that it was my time to come out in society as the late 20th c. Pakistani-American version of the English Regency debutant. The rite of initiation? Eyebrow Threading.
To this day, I walk towards the salon (today's being Vogue) with heart half full of annoyance and half full of hopes of rejuvenation. Eyebrow threading remains to this day the staple of the desi beautifying regimen, as we've been evolutionarily blessed with sufficient natural coverage for the winter (although I would have thought that the 21st c. would see to it that our proximity to the equator would eliminate such pilous cover through natural selection).
Taut, sharp threads continue to graze our skin, pulling out minute menaces, and in this way our shaped arches connote perpetual surprise or a flirtatious predisposition à la Madhuri Dixit circa 1993.
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