This post is for The Ride: a record of my thoughts, fears, ambitions and experiences of blogging an unpublished novel.
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Antisocial Media. That’s what I was calling Facebook for a few days this week. There was teeth-grinding, jaw clenching and eyebrow harvesting. Particularly eyebrow harvesting. It’s what I do when I’m confronted with a problem I can’t fix. Or at least, it’s what I’m told I do, by my wife and two daughters. And If I look in the bathroom mirror, it is pretty clear my right eyebrow just stops about two-thirds the way along its proper course. Where the final third of eyebrow should be, there’s a kind of facial hair desert.
My girls didn’t lie to me about that. My girls wouldn’t lie to me, particularly if it relates to a further deterioration of my physical appearance that makes being seen in public with me even more painful for them. Their objective when out in public with me is that I seem invisible to people of their age. But a gross facial deformity such as the lack of the outside third of a right eyebrow renders you visible in the most embarrassing way. It’s something I’ve just got to deal with. Continue reading