Why are you so angry?

Throw pretension out the window. The story I am about to tell you is true. There are several witnesses to it's aftermath. Some stories breed legends, whether or not this one will, remains to be seen, but it did breed the longest standing catch phrase in my family's history..."Why are you so angry?"

My husband is a man's man. This should be self-explanatory, but I would like to be clear. He likes hunting. He is a gun enthusiast. He likes "working on his stuff". His stuff amounts to cars, boats, ATV's, generators, sheds...he always has a project. Except for a penchant for burning candles, (No Cracker Barrel I did not purchase that Freesia Yankee Candle for myself) I would say that there is nothing feminine about him at all.

Jim is not a particularly hairy man. 35 years old and not a chest hair to be found. This is not an issue for me, as no chest hair, at least in my case equates to no back hair!!!! I am not a big fan of Sasquatch, I prefer my "Mexican Hairless" (after the breed not the people). However, he has a grooming situation that is in extensive need of action.

On his face lives two unspeakable creatures; Harry and Harold the Caterpillar twins. They live right above his eyes and warn of horrific wintery conditions all year long. I have been waiting for the day that they form their cocoons and fly away, but alas 15 years later and there they are predicting a chill that Nostradamus missed.

I have tried to assist him in getting them under control. I have plucked these four inch monster insects. I bought those waxing strips from Walgreens, you know the ones that go under and above the eyebrows for shaping? Anything to keep them under control. It was a labor of love.

My hope is that those of you who are married or in long term relationships can relate to what I am about to tell you, but I feel somehow that what I am about to say usually follows "You might be a redneck if..."

We lived in a double wide mobile home with the deepest, most luxurious garden tub. I loved soaking in it for hours, Jim soaked in it too, but for not nearly as long as I would. However, sometimes I would walk in and catch him up to his neck in bubbles or with the bluest of "Calgon, take me away" water. It kind of made me chuckle, but whatever...I love a good bath, why can't he, right? After all in a house with two screaming girls, that bathtub was the only solace.

I guess all the recent attention to the bold underlining of his forehead made him self conscious and one day in that very tub, he decided to take matters into his own hands. I don't know why he thought I wouldn't notice, but he grabbed the Lady Bic on the countertop and went to work.

When he walked out of the bathroom, I didn't know what happened, but one thing I knew for sure...he was PISSED OFF!

"What's wrong?", I questioned.
"Nothing." he said flippantly.

I knew better, I could see it in his face. I think this was the angriest I had ever seen him. Why was he mad? What happened?

"Did the kids sneak into the bathroom?" I asked.
"No". he replied.
"What happened?"
"Nothing"

Why is he lying? What is he hiding?

He sat down grabbed the remote control and focused only on Mike Rowe and whatever dirty job he was doing, but even that could not brighten his mood. Hours later, when I had been stretched to my paranoid end, I began to overreact, I turned to him and yelled, "Why are you so angry?"!!!!

"Angry, I'm not angry." he said. He sounded confused, but his face read anything, but confusion. Confused myself and ready to let him have it, I turned on the light and kneeled next to his chair and that's when I realized something was REALLY wrong. His eyebrows, foretellers of the frigid, had been reduced to about an inch long. They had been thinned and angled towards his nose. The classic cartoon evil villian. He had shaved his eyebrows off.

Laughter bubbled up from the deepest pits of my stomach. I laughed harder and longer than I ever have and probably ever will.

"You look angry."
"No, I don't."
"You made yourself look angry."
"No I didn't...what are you talking about?"
"You shaved your eyebrows off."
"I did not."

I stared at him in disbelief. He was now truly angry that I did not approve of his grooming attempts. He returned his focus to Mike Rowe.

"Hey, Jim?"
"Yes."
"Why are you so angry?"
"Shut up."