Eyebrow Blindness, Existential Crises, A Death 🚨
Rest in pieces
Wazaaapppp
I am not going to lie…. I do not have an interesting or compelling opener this week. So. Let’s gooooooooooo.
💋 SWEETIE RATES 💋
Coming to terms with Eyebrow Blindness
As a culture, we’re finally feeling the groundswell of a necessary movement. A movement that could save lives. We’re finally recognising Eyebrow Blindness. It’s time.
Scared? You should be. As we wake up to Eyebrow Blindness (EB), some of us must face unpleasant truths about how and why we’ve decided to style our eyebrows the way we have. Many women have posted their stories of EB on TikTok, and I’m now seeing it spread to Reddit, X and Instagram.
The cause is close to my heart. I, too, have suffered from EB. I have made many grave errors with my eyebrows. They were much too dark, too blocky, too painted. I was too insecure about them being wispy little nothings that I inadvertently turned myself into Bert from Sesame Street. I Streisand-effected my brows.
Sure, they weren’t the worst. But they also…. Weren’t the best. And I couldn’t even tell! I thought they looked fine. Had a loved one just taken me aside between and say, “Hey Meegs, I love you to death, but your eyebrows are kind of fucking crazy right now in that they look like two little doo-doos on your face,” the trajectory of my story could be completely different. I could have had Paul Mescal hanging off my arm. But no, he probably took one look at my eyebrows in The Old Queen’s Head and decided he didn’t like this old queen’s head. I’ve changed Paul, I swear I’ve changed!
Smoothies
I’m scared about how much I think about smoothies and how often I want to be drinking them. They’re so magical. I think of flavour combinations in my head all day. I am haunted by the thought of all those nutrients coalescing, different shapes, different flavours, different textures of ingredients, all becoming one, a thick, cold, delicious slop.
Existential crises
I’ve been having my biannual freak out this week. I never know when it’s coming, or what it’s going to look like, but eventually I will wake up and It’s Happening. This time, I find myself having a full-blown existential crisis about time. There is never enough of it, you see, and it’s running through my fingers like tap water.
Perhaps I’ve been poisoned by Sylvia Plath’s fig tree bit, but lately I find myself overwhelmed. There is too much on earth that I want to see and experience, there are movies to watch, songs to hear, books to read, theories to learn, smoothies to drink, people to meet, places to see, feelings to feel and I can never conquer all of it. I am starving and greedy at life’s great buffet, and I am armed with only a soup spoon.
Despite my panic, I feel like every existential crisis contains a glimmer of hope. We only hope for more because we know it might be possible. Personally, I will use this shaking of foundations to dedicate more time to season one of Winter House, as I know my destiny has foretold.
🚩 SWEETIE HATES 🚩
The Marienbad Touch
Crushingly, I had to bid adieu to my eight year old Macbook Air this weekend. I knew the end was coming any day now, but still, it took me by surprise. Aside from the fact that I now have to pay to replace my laptop in the midst of a very fiscally irresponsible period of my life, the loss of it also just made me sad. It’s so stupid — I know it’s just a computer — but the Macbook was a constant in the oft-turbulent life I’ve led over since 2016. But despite the pain, I know where to lay the blame. And it falls squarely on the shoulders of the 1961 French New Wave film Last Year at Marienbad.
Tall order, I know, but hear me out. Prior to the death of my laptop, I suffered through three unsuccessful attempts to watch Last Year at Marienbad over the course of the last year. The film became something of a white whale to me. Any time I would try to watch it on my computer, something would happen to make me give up. The internet would cut out, the file would seem to corrupt, or it would simply not play and I would be taunted by a spinning wheel of death.
Instead of taking it as a warning, I took it as a challenge. “Wow.” I thought as the opening credits unfurled, “I’m finally watching it!” At the apex of the film, my computer died unceremoniously, never to turn on again. I’m not sure what I did to deserve this. Except everything I do or say. Unfair. Does anyone have, oh, £1200 or so to spare? Not for a new laptop, it’d just be a nice thing to do.
Parasocial relationship relationship
Jennifer Lopez Source Says Ben Affleck Is "Impossible" but She Doesn't Want to Be Divorced
A source says: “She wants this marriage to work so much that she is willing to make any sacrifice including giving up being J.Lo. She doesn't want to be divorced. She doesn't want to end up like Madonna—on her own at 60."
Me when Jennifer Lopez makes a weird and unprompted jab toward Madonna 🙂
Me when Jennifer Lopez might be getting her heart broken 🙁
I unfortunately don’t know Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez, as I am legally not allowed within 100 ft of good looking and successful men, yet I was equally charmed and disappointed when they got back together (I don’t believe in take-backs). Still, now I’m kind of devastated to hear the rumours about their alleged pending divorce.
I always loved the way they loved — passive aggressive, insecure, confrontational, door-slamming — and I don’t want it to end. Anyway, stream B2b by Charli XCX.
Patti Smith
Like every other millennial with any creative interest whatsoever, I read, and was inspired by, Patti Smith’s Just Kids. But after learning that she’s friends with Johnny Depp and wished him and his dry hair a happy birthday, I say: Patti…….. Your music sucks and it always has. When I was in my early twenties I was too afraid to say that because I didn’t want people to think I was an uncool normie. Because the Night sounds like a woman being chased down the stairs by a piano. And Horses is boring.
Until next time…….