NYC Latin Style - Happy Birthday to YOU

So a few weeks ago was my friends birthday, you will remember her as the Cuban Missile.  I'm terrible at gift giving.  I hate shopping, I rarely listen when people talk about the things they like and I really throw a shit fit if someone regifts.

DINNER!  That was the plan.  Only I still don't know NY and have terrible luck when I pick a place. I asked her to pick one.  Dinner after a work and a drink or two then the commute to Jersey, that was the plan.  Obviously I forget the last time we went out.

She picked a great place that she has been going to for years, Rio Grande (I hope I got the name right), it took 1/2 an hour for me to get a cab, those can drivers really hate stopping at the upper East side.  I finally threatened asked nicely a cabby that was off duty, he actually complied.

I get to the restaurant and am amazed that it is a nice place on the East Side on 38th Street.  People were actually smiling.  The Cuban Missile was at the bar holding a rather large marguerita glass and a huge smile.  She immediately ordered me one, a Peach delight to my taste buds.  There was a long wait for a table, but hey, we laugh, talk and wait patiently.

The food in a word Heavenly.  The amount served is large enough to order one, share and still have left over to take home.  The service was just wonderful, in part due to everyone knowing the Cuban Missile.  It was great also in part because the staff were just wonderful people that were enjoying the crowd.

It was just great to not only celebrate her birthday but also to have some time with someone that can talk and listen about anything under the sun except work.  I mean... who wants to get out of work to talk about work?????

I didn't even realize the time, it didn't feel like a long time.  I told her I was going to walk to the train station, she gave me a look that said {she's fucking nuts}.

I began my walk enjoying the scenery.  After a while I thought I was lost, I asked a couple and they assured me I was going the right way.  I get to the station and look at the monitor and am surprised that it is after 11pm.  My train left 8 minutes early and once I get to Secaucus it would be another 3 hour wait.  I had to go to work the next day.

I text Marguerite that either I stayed with her or slept at the station.  She had some choice words that related to just get to her place.  I stuck my arm out and a cab immediately came to an abrupt stop.  I gave the address and said not to dilly dally that I was not a tourist and he FLOORED it.  Time span did not exist.  We got there so fast that a normal $17 cab fare was $7.  I mean when he stopped the tires screeched.

I was welcomed in and at that late hour we just went to separate bedrooms with a good nite.  It was an incredible feeling to wake up and walk 3 minutes to my job.  It just threw my day off, I was happy from the start and completely unstressed.  I tell ya that commute is a killer.

Two Latin women just having dinner in the city, drinks and laughs.  I mean....  isn't that what it's about?  Relaxing, no drama and just enjoying a great meal?  Celebrating a birthday without the stress of gift giving.  I have to say.......I have learned this very late.

NJ The good side

I really wanted a pampered day for Mother's day, only I wanted to do it on Saturday, and not the one before since everything would be packed.


However, the food poisoning from Thursday (that blog is in the works and will be posted as another segment of NYC Latin Style) left me tired and run down.  Once I got home Friday I slept and the next thing I knew it was almost 1pm Saturday.  I lost the morning and most of my intended to do.

Worse yet I had to force myself to get ready and at 6pm I decided to just get a manicure at the mall and visit my favorite spot, Ruby Tuesday.  Mango Mojito and my favorite meal would do just fine.


Mall Spa
For quite a few years I have been going to same place for my nails and pedicure.  Through my many moves that took me further away, I would end up going back so they could fix the mess a local shop made.

I walked in, I never make an appointment, they are usually fast so if I have to wait, it won't be a long wait.  The woman that normally does my nails smiled and I told her I would wait, she was tending to a customer.  The owner however sent me to a table where a new nail technician sat.  A thin man with fear in his eyes.  I told him want I wanted and sat through the process.

TWO HOURS LATER, I see that my nails are uneven and he is just taking so long, I lost the feeling to my ass.  I take deep breaths reminding myself that new workers need time, experience and patience.  Patience from customers.  The owner knew if I was unhappy I would say something, more so, he knew that I would tell the technician myself.  Which I did in low tones, nothing worse then embarrassing a new person.

He did a good job, I've had better, I've had worse.  Now it's 8pm and I had also asked for a 30 minute massage.  The woman that does the 'spa' side is actually pretty darn good with massages.


She was supposed to leave a half hour before but waiting on me and I was waiting on the new tech to stop bonding with my hands.

Thirty minutes later I was energized, the soreness to my shoulders gone and my stomach was reminding me I had not eaten all day.


I walk out of the spa and into the mall corridor to see stores shutting the lights,  I check the time 9:28 pm.

Now what?  I'm not eating dinner that late, I'm not having a drink since that would mean immediately driving.  Even with one drink, I like a couple of hours to lag before getting into a car.

Basically, I was all energetic, feeling great and nowhere to go.  I felt the pout growing by the second.  I know had some choice words for that new technician.


I drove home and poured myself a glass of wine, I splattered some jam on bread and I turned on the TV.  If it weren't for the fact that my shoulders for the first time in over a week, felt so good..... I would have gotten totally depressed.

It's Saturday, not even 10:30 pm, the week before Mother's day and the best I could come up with was going to bed early.  I won't even venture out next week.


At least I have really nice looking nails and a stronger back........  that's the bright side....... right?

NYC Latin Style..... Revisiting the past to enjoy the present

NYC Latin Style - Revisiting the past to enjoy the present

It is a shame that I have spent 5 years commuting to this island and dreading it.  I am taking a new approach, one of childlike wonder.  I don't rush to the train station after work, rather I walk the close to 3 miles.  I take different routes each time, finding new views and appreciating the surroundings.

There are several restaurants, bars and shops I now plan to visit.  I map out the summer agenda while I walk around, half trying to find the NJ Path station and half hoping I don't so I can keep looking around.  The Spring chill allows me to find these places while the weather is bearable.

Tonight I wanted to visit my favorite shop.  But first.... a bit of the past

My goodness how the two decades have passed...

When I was in my early 20s I worked in the city.  The New York Hilton and Executive Towers in midtown.  I made many friends since I worked any shift available. As a Front desk clerk you to met the world, one guest at a time, one check in at a time.

Single and with time to spare, I never rushed home, plenty trains or buses day or night available to take me home (commuting was much different at that time).  At the time Hoboken was my home and it was actually affordable.  Everyone knew everyone and life there was pleasant and friendly.  Before the condos and Brownstone status that is.

Once I got married my husband at the time and I both worked in the city, we practically lived there and slept in Hoboken, it was difficult trying to extinguish what was our home state.  When I was pregnant I knew that I would not work in the city, I wanted to be close to my child and in the same state.  Not soon after giving birth I found a job in New Jersey.

Little did I know that life's path would not only keep me from a city I grew to love but also make us strangers for a couple of decades plus some years.

A divorce, severe career change and single parenting would make me live in a safe and quiet town in NJ.  That safety would become my habitual living.  Once my son grew to live his own life, I found myself finding a job in NYC.  I resentfully took it as the recession had hit hard and there were no other choices.  The commute was nothing like the past nor was the city or anything in it.

For 5 years I spent my time trying to get out like a prisoner sentenced to life and determined to escape.  Until.... a Latin style night with friends that taught me to LIVE.

You see... that safety had become a mundane life.  That quietness my routine.  I love the state I live in, but I hate my lifeless life.

Back to the present:

Tonight I ventured out to that store that decades later I still visit.  Incense... that will make me travel at night not caring what time I get home.  Incense, dipped in real essential oils.  I can't see myself starting or ending a day without lighting a good incense to Zen me out.  A co-worker has gone with me a couple of times before and we began a routine.  Head downtown and stop for a Guinness, go to the store and shop.  Eat a light dinner and stop for coffee.  We usually say our goodnights at a corner where she turns one way to head further into NY and to another borough and I struggle to find the Path Station because I have the gift of never knowing where I am.

Tonight was no different, with the exception that I didn't care if I was lost.  I wanted to savor the Village and walk through memory lane.  Mercer Street, always some quaint shops and bizarre bars.  MacDougal where a man was pretty much mouth to mouth kissing a ferret in his duffel bag.  Yup, the strangeness on that street hasn't changed.  I stopped at a market and bought a bouquet of flowers.  I used to do that a lot.  Buy fresh flowers for the dining room table, I can't even remember when I stopped doing that.  Lavender bouquet was tonights choice. I eventually found the Path and headed to Hoboken where my train home would start its trip.

I should be home at 930 and I sit in the train writing this blog, knowing that my NYC wandering has only just begun.  I reluctantly headed home.  I can't believe I not only just wrote that but meant it.  I really wanted to keep walking around but tomorrow is another work day and after 11pm, finding a way to commute home is near impossible.

Perhaps with a new attitude, a child like wonderment and a goal for a fun summer will help  me to find the love I once had for this city.  Help me to both appreciate its wonder and embrace the fact that if I am still here, then life has something in store for me.  This time I shall listen and smile.

Even though I am cringing at the guy sitting next to me blowing his nose into his bare hands, I have absolutely no regret on staying an additional 5 hours in the city, 2 of which wandering around.  

Five more stops to go.

NYC Latin Style

The history:  Working in NYC even with the hype of 'The City that Never Sleeps' has taken the ability to have a life away from me.  The commute is something one would not understand unless they went through it, every day.  After almost 5 years it wears me down consistently.


Friends:  When you have absolutely no time you lose friends.  NJ happy hour is early, I never make it, actually I used to try and just about catch people as they were leaving, the commute is that long.  After a couple of years you have little in common or worse, lose touch.  Can you smell the life disappearing?

Making friends in NY is like dodging a bullet, you get tired enough to want to get hit by one, but you're still healing from the previous wounds.


Hope:  I write often of that frenemy called Hope.  But we have finally broken up, it was a mutual break up.  I lost faith in Hope and Hope lost faith in me.


Mixed blood:  I was married to a Cuban.  When I gave birth to my son I knew I would raise him alone, it did not start until he was a toddler, but, I knew from the time he was born.  I am Puerto Rican, I wanted him to learn of both cultures.  How lucky is he?  He gets the blood of two great islands.  Little did I know that I would lose touch with my own culture.


The rain is gone:  I love that song, I can see clearly now, the rain is gone.  A co-worker who turns out to be a good friend invited me to stay over.  'We'll have wine, talk and relax'.  My initial instinct is to say no.  If I give up one day of a weekend that means I have only one day for errands, then it feels as though I had no time off.  Weekdays are shot as by the time I get home, places have closed, I am too tired and it's late.  Weekends are to cram all the things others do after work, so they have the weekend free.

This time I said Yes.  I meant no, but said Yes.  You see, she will be leaving to the South.  One way trip.  I may not have hung out with her before, clearly my loss, but we understand one another quite well.  I also wanted to be able to say, I spent some time with her before she left and keep in touch.  Perhaps Hope, that frenemy is whispering in my ear.


The evening:  I show up with a small luggage, jeans, jeans and pjs.  Light makeup, some socks and hair clips.


SWEET CHEESE!  The woman had plans, not just a plan....PLANS.  Before I knew it we were in her closet.  My usual conservative self was in a shirt that had little material, a choker, heels so high I felt the temperature change and the ear rings..... silver poles with a stripper on each.  Hair out of my face and enough mascara to give Elvira a run for her Revlon.  I thought to myself....... self, just drink the rum and coke and go with it.  Ah, yes....  guzzling rum and coke is a definite relaxer, highly recommended.

We chatted for a bit and before long she was on the phone with someone.  As my foggy mind cleared and I listened to her words, I realized she was selling someone......ME!  Not for money per say...but apparently a single hotty on the other line was being propelled (good, I'm not alone on this woman's master mind plan).


Cuban missile:  Marguerite!  This woman is just a missile.   Don't hide, don't run, when she aims, she will hit the target.  If you ever have a friend like this one don't consider yourself lucky, consider yourself blessed.  She doesn't swim in your misery, rather she shows you another place to swim.  She will make sure the landscape is beautiful and that Island music is in the air.  Oh, how I miss culture, I had not realized how much until that night.

Juan arrived (that would be the other missile target on the phone), she sent me to collect him.  A stranger... I never met... don't know what he looks like... you get the picture.  I walk down a hill in heels I never wore thinking....Lord, I know you think I should have a deep relationship with gravity, but if you could keep my face off the floor this one night, I won't complain another day when I land on my face or ass.  I look ahead and see someone talking to the security guard.  He looks and smiles, yells out 'Gracey?'  (Now, a person in general smiling at a stranger in NY?  UnFUCKINGheardof.  I felt myself relax, that is until I had to get us back to Marguerite's apartment and I realized I had no idea.  I managed it....woohoo.  Another rum and coke (hey, don't judge, you find your inspiration, I find mine) and we are off.


House party:  The first destination is a house party.  Before arriving Juan announces that he will be getting bread.  That's right, his party gift is several loaves of fresh out of the oven bread.  I find myself holding them and thinking...'Shit, I haven't eaten, this smells good.'  Before long Marguerite breaks into one of the loaves and we are on our way munching on bread. (I can't make this shit up).  We get to the building and find that the loaves are the 'bouquet of flowers'.  The gift for the hostess.


Issues:  We all have issues and although many would like to state mine, I know me better than anyone.  1.  I am claustrophobic.  Not many know or remember.  When I worked in Jersey it was not an issue, I drove to work and there were rare times when in a confined space.  However, my case is bad enough to require being put down during an MRI like a horse with four bad legs.  Being crammed into a crowded train daily would just increase that phobia.  2.  I am an observer by nature.  It takes me awhile to warm up to strangers as I find I like to watch and see how they are first. (I mean why risk attachment if they are bat shit crazy right?) 3.  I don't like being barefoot.  Seriously, I hate it, unless I am on a beach.  It goes hand in hand with claustrophobia,  you see, if you need to run because you are feeling too confined, you run. Might as well keep your feet protected....just in case....right?


House party:  We get into an elevator the size of a ring box.  I don't want Marguerite and Juan to think I am a freak (or know) so I keep the torture to myself.  I don't know what floor the party was on, but it was the longest fucking elevator ride of my life (it would suck if it ended up being on the second floor).  I was hoping that I would not start to hyperventilate (would hate for Juan to think I have orgasms in elevators, Marguerite would just chalk it up to a Rican thing) or worse yet, sweat like a hog during a heatwave.

We finally get there.  The door opens and women from Brazil and Venezuela grab the loaves of bread as if it WERE flowers.  Yep, that's Latin for you, keep the flowers that will die in a couple of days and just bring fresh bread (again, don't judge...breaking bread is as old as making wine....right?).  I look ahead at a very tight hallway and think 'OH MY GOD, another tight place.  ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?  But I immediately remembered that I needed to get a hold of this worsening fear.  Now is the time.  I held my head up in defiance......... when a hand touched my elbow and one of a set of identical twin sisters, (who lived in that apartment) said something I could not understand.  Multilingual Marguerite translated, due to the hardwood floors everyone had to remove their shoes.  I think to myself, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?  I thought of running right there and then, but I began to remove one of the murderous heels, but then it started... the hot flash... the heightened breathing and I stopped.  (There is no fucking way I am taking off my shoes. There is no way I will survive this ring box apartment filled with foreigners, there is no way I will!!!...NO FUCKING WAY).  I am not sure if the woman understood the fear or thought I was just going to faint, so she said to tippy toe into the living room.

I wish I could say how many people were there, but it felt like hundreds and it was probably less than 10.  I found my way to the living room with little anxiety.  I sat by the table even though most were by the couch.  You see it was a couch that would fit most but not all, and they would be cramped together.....  You get the picture.  I found it more breathable to sit by the table.  I even found it pleasurable, the watcher in me seeing fun and laughter unfold.  It was someones birthday and she was young and anxious to get the party going - so she could begin the rest of the night.  I was served some food, but the anxiety kept me from eating it.  I did however enjoy to the fullest the happiness and varied cultures before me.  Even the black dog that looked like a burnt hot dog seeking it's own bread.  The person that stood out the most was a Venezuelan woman 36 sheets to the wind, professing her love to someone, who wasn't even there.  She had no humility about it.  She loves him, will bear his children and he'll like it.  You gotta love the enthusiasm.  Unfortunately I don't believe the feeling is mutual, unrequited love sucks, of this I know.


Destination - reroute:  It was time to leave for our next destination, as we got outside I inhaled and the word FREEDOM screamed in my head.  Juan and Marguerite were up ahead reaching the car and I was taking my time enjoying the cold air and expanded space that is NYC.  I do believe it's the first time I appreciated it.


The more the merrier:  Havana Central, if you have not been there, make it a point to go.  The music (live) is Island worthy, I was surprised to hear my favorite song playing when we walked in... Pedro Navaja.  Due to the fact that I was drinking some unknown concoction at the house party, I was now feeling no pain with the heels.  WOOHOO!  We were met with another co-worker and his wife, Jose and Rosa.  A couple that just blows to the wind the concept that marriages don't work.  Twenty six years and they look like they are dating.  Compromise and respect....works wonders for them.

Some Margaritas later and I was feeling no anxiety, no pain and lots of glory.  I found my groove and Juan, ever the willing victim danced along with both Marguerite and I.  Did I mention it was her 7th wedding anniversary?  Unfortunately her husband was out of state, but I am happy to have been one of the chosen to spend that evening with her.  She must have missed him terribly but she trooped on to make it a night to remember.


Havana closed early (early by NYC standards) so we made our way to a bar, I believe it was called something like Amigo bar.  WHAT A PLACE! I would love to go back.  The people were somewhat friendly, well as long as you don't call the bartender Flaco.  That would just throw a wrench, trust me on that one.  Music, laughter and drinks..... Magnificent fun!


A note to the ladies:  A gentleman with the ease of great driving skills (I mean in NYC that is just unheard of), patience and fun made sure Marguerite and I had a safe night.  Ladies....chivalry does still exist!!!!

NOT ONE MINUTE OF bitching, complaining, work talk or disaster.  A wonderful and fun night!!


I learned a few things:
A friend doesn't pity you your miseries, they distract you from them.
Single men with class, personality, style and vibrancy do exist.
Marriage is not only possible but successfully so, if only we saw more of it.
There are those that do not judge your issues or worse remind you of them.
You can conquer your fears with a smile and twinkle in your eye (massive amounts of booze might help).


My small dream of a slow dance under a full moon may not have been met, but my heart swelled no less from the thrill of the night.


Hope!, that wretched frenemy.....welcome home.

To the Cuban Missile, thank you for showing me the other side of the city!

AndMore...Settling for less...habit or necessity?

As a single parent I learned early on that the word security is many fold.  You hold this tiny baby in your arms that is completely reliant on......YOU!


You don't see it or feel it quickly...that moment when your carefree days diminish.  The manner in which you begin to take crap because the greater picture serves your child better.  The sacrifices you easily make because it is in the greater good of your child.


It becomes second nature....
The worrying
The sacrificing
The nourishing
The abundance of love that seeps out of you
The strength in handling that a person or persons depends on you...completely

Think about that last one for a moment.  How terrifying is that?

But you do it.  You become the person that worries but shows strength, the one that sacrifices but shows generosity, the provider that shares all, the one that teaches unconditional love.


The years go by and you worry more, sacrifice more but you nourish less as they learn to get their own food at friends or store, you love even more and still wonder how it is possible, but their love and need is far, far less.  I mean, they don't love you less, they just don't love you the same.  Conditions start popping up, if you don't know what I mean, hang around a teenager for a bit.  Manipulation is taught in a circle of friends that never share the address of the meetings.  They depend on you less.


This is the time that you should be spending on learning to find who you will become.  I mean you can't be the same person, you soon won't have a person to worry about round the clock, you'll sacrifice less and they learn to make their own sacrifices.  You love them more because they are now a whole new person and still becoming more.  They definitely depend on  you less.

When you don't take the time to learn who you will become, this is what happens.


You find that your child is now living with a partner.  They barely see you as they have many things to do.  You find that you don't know who you are and where you will end up.

You are a parent and always will be but the dynamics have changed.  You are not an active parent.  You have to think about yourself and in most cases/times only of yourself.  How difficult that is when you haven't done so in so many years.  You find people are just not sympathetic to that.  They expect you to just turn it all off and know how to have fun, where and with whom.


You find that being lost has a new meaning.  Caring for yourself is actually not selfish and loneliness and fear have new meanings.  What's worse is that it's natural, expected and knowing that doesn't help one bit.

It is time for me to grow into yet another person, long overdue actually.  To find out who I will become now and where that quest takes me.  To step forth and worry for myself, sacrifice for myself, nourish and love myself.  Depend on myself.  I think about that last one for a moment.  How terrifying is that?  Very!


I don't know where this life continues to take me but so far I learned a few things:
If I could change anything I would change nothing, for all of it led me to who I am today.
Being a parent is truly the greatest gift and life lesson.
In settling for less in many ways I received more in other ways
It is necessary to become one person at one point of your life and become another at other points of life
I no longer fear growing, learning and changing...I am the seasons of my life.

Weather LIES

I just can't take it anymore.  You can't get the right weather report unless they are talking about it real time and even then it's a crap shoot.

64 degrees MY ASS!



They said 64 degrees so I wore a half length sleeved sweater and opened back sneakers.  I just went outside and my digits were talking 'GET THE FUCK BACK INSIDE'.  It's cold enough out there to keep your coolatta cold.

THAT'S IT


Those crackpot weather reporters need some schooling.

SCHOOLING



No more maps or craps.  Just plain ole ENGLISH.

If it's 67 but will feel like 17 then simply say:  PEOPLE HOLD ON TO YOUR TITS AND BALLS, THEY ARE GOING TO FREEZE RIGHT OFF!

I bet you every single person will dress appropriately.

80 but feels like 110?  PEOPLE DIVE INTO SOME BUTTER CAUSE YOUR ROASTING YOUR ASS OUT THERE.  MANY WILL DIE!!!!

I bet you only those that really need to go out will, the rest will stay in.

Blizzard?  Guessing when and how much?  Why?  PEOPLE SNOW IS COMING. DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH OR WHEN, AT YOUR OWN RISK!  IF YOU DIE, IT'S YOUR OWN FUCKING FAULT FOR NOT STAYING IN FOR ONE DAY!

I bet you many would stay in play Parcheesi or some other shitty game with a smile.

Rain storm?  IF YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO SWIM......LEARN!  IT'S GONNA COME DOWN THAT BAD.

I bet not a single soul would leave their rubber boots behind......or canoe.

It's not difficult!  If you don't know - just put it out there and let the Sheeples decide!  But don't give wrong info!!!  Now I will freeze my ass going home and wonder when the pneumonia will settle in!

Weather Lies!  I am sick and tired of weather lies!!!!

Threading Nazi

For several months now I have my eyebrows threaded.  I really never bothered to take stock in the minute detail of the task.

This past weekend I went for a touch up.  That is just to clean up some new stray hairs.  Very quick and smooth process.

My standard place to go is the eyebrow bar at the mall.  It is a place literally for eyebrow threading.  They have chairs similar to ones in the beauty salon only they lay back.  Once you go in unless you have a regular person that does it, you get whoever is there.  I always have the same person, on this day she was out.  Knowing the restricted schedule I have I opted to have someone else do it.

This petite, Indian young lady with hair so long it just reached her knees came over with a tight smile, she advised me it was my turn.  You wouldn't believe how busy that place is on the weekends.

I sit on the chair, then lay back.  The custom is for the customer to take both hands and with one finger of each hand stretch the skin above and below the eyebrow.  They will then take a thread and with both hands weave it through your brow, eliminating unwanted hairs.  A part of the thread is maneuvered via their mouth.

It started with her jamming my finger into my own eye, quite aggressively.  I told her I had an eye injury and needed to take care, I think at this point I realized her limited English was 'You next'.

The assault was swift, it was like having that creature from The Ring movie climb up on me and attack my brows.  Her teeth gleamed in anger while pulling the thread through it.  She pulled the rest of the thread with two angry hands, my eyebrows were on fire.  I dared a peek and could see many tiny hairs flying about, as if a tiny lawn mower were doing the trick.

The pain was excruciating and I finally had the strength to say STOP!  It took two shouts.  The maniacal threading Nazi would have none of that.  She pointed to the center of my eyebrow and before I knew it she was on me like a bad date in a trance over cheap perfume.  I literally had to push her off.

I grabbed a mirror and there was hair all over my face and inside my eyes.  Luckily I did not have my contacts on, I wore my glasses.  I stormed out wishing I knew how to say FUCK YOU, YOU LITTLE THREADING NAZI in any of the Indian dialects.

I went home with a pounding pain above both eyes, the skin so red I looked like one of the Aliens of Star Trek.  When I got home my left eye, you know the one, it's only been through laser, antibiotics and multi levels of prescription wear, was swollen.  The next day the swelling was down but the pain persisted.

Today, I have a stye in my left eye (crazy bitch probably had gingivitis in that foaming anger), and LITERALLY thread burns on both eyes just below the brow.

I am so traumatic about it, I doubt I will ever even sew a pair of fucking pants if it entails touching thread.

I shall go back to the waxing, suddenly scalding hot wax doesn't seem so bad after all.