This has got to stop

Or else I will be missing an eyebrow.

I looked in the mirror the other day to find that a portion of my right eyebrow was lacking in hairs, almost as if I had taken a piece of scotch tape, taped it to the corner of my brow and haphazardly ripped it off. But it's not a case of the phantom eyebrow that gradually disappears until I wake up to find a bare brow. I know why the hairs are missing...thus making it all the more pathetic that I haven't found any measures to stop it.

Everyone has his or her way of relieving stress: blowing air out, wringing hands, twisting hair. I rub my eyebrows. Rub them to satisfaction until the individual hairs land on my shirt. Sometimes I place one index finger on one brow and my thumb on the other and then slowly bring my fingers together and apart. Other times I put one index finger on each brow and lightly scratch as if there were mosquito bites beneath my brows. I don't know why I do it. It just happens; just like biting ones nails...only a little...cleaner. Kind of.

I don't know what would be worse. Having a single uni-brow traveling the length of my forehead or two half brows acting as the visible artifacts of my stress. Either way, my patchy brow has now become the symbol of all things bad that have happened here in Korea. As much as I would love to love my students and love to love my daily commute, it is hard. And I have the missing eyebrows to prove it!

The other day I was riding in a crowded subway, body parts mashed together and face in someone's hair (luckily, I happen to be above average in height, so I can usually escape the face in the armpits). Basically, within these close comforts, I have gotten to second base with every morning commuting Korean that rides the Number 2 line. It's quite satisfying if you think about it. I've been groped, squeezed, pushed, breathed on..and if I'm lucky, perspired on. But as I'm standing there holding my work bag and my gym bag, I slowly turn my head only to find in front of my eyes a mole. A mole with a hair. A long wiry hair seemingly growing from the mole as I look at it, almost begging for me to just pluck it out. It's probably a good thing I couldn't reach my eyebrow, otherwise I would have lawn-mowed it away in one clean swipe.

Despite my persistent complaints, I have plenty to be thankful for. I work with some amazing people. People that make me want to glue back those wasted eyebrows and erase any signs of my having complained for being in another country. One more month and my services here at this academy will be complete. One more week after that and I'll be back home in the United States. With a pair of luscious eyebrows.