I was quite looking forward to my dental appointment today. Not because I'm all that into the whole torture porn thing; I can do without having my mouth stretched open while a masked person jabs and scrapes my pearlies with sharp pointy things.
No, I go for the eyebrows.
After my session with the hygienist (gold star, thanks for asking), I settled back in the chair to await the arrival of the dentist, quite keen for my bi-annual viewing of those miracles of randomness that grace his face. Those eyebrows, comprised of wildly corkscrewing hairs, each about two inches long, each a distinctly different shade of white or black or grey, are all the entertainment you need to take your mind off the fact that some dude is poking around in your gums. Those furry caterpillars have a life of their own.
So it was with shock and dismay that I looked up into his face as he leaned over my chair, and all I could see were two neatly trimmed generic eyebrows. It looks as though my dentist has taken up reading those men's grooming magazines, perhaps even made a trip to the spa. They've stolen all the personality from his face.
The wild west really is over.