They are fairly thick,
Dark as tar yet glossy.
They are perfectly proportionate
With arches that taper to a point.
Quite odd, when last I saw him
He had bushy fuzzes
And he wouldn't let us
Within a yard of them
Us wielding tweezers and all.
[Weapons of torture he called them]
My cousins teased me
[So did my aunts... Women...]
About eyebrows of all things!
Said they were black fuzz
Like a bird's down feathers.
As if!
He denies that he had them done
And insists we check for fevers.
We must be hallucinating!
[Yeah right]
It is absurdly obvious,
There's really no point in denying.
So I had them plucked,
So what?
They wanted to do it anyways.
But give them the pleasure
Of seeing me in pain?
No way!
I'm not quite sure why
He won't admit the truth.
Perhaps because of the teasing
All my aunts have heaped on him.
But I still don't see what's wrong.
I did my research before starting.
[Eyebrows take a while to grow ya know]
I carefully marked what to pluck,
Singled out a hair with precision...
The first one hurt like hell!
But I think I gradually went numb.
It didn't hurt as much afterwards.
If they think I would confess?
As if.
