The Lost Art of At Home Waxing

After a week or so of slacking off in the "looks department" due to my son's mid-winter recess from school, I reluctantly decided to look into a mirror. This is something I try to avoid doing considering that every time I pass the damn thing it adds a few extra grey hairs, a gigantic blemish and a scattering of "not so fine" lines. And my "winter white" skin isn't becoming the only problem. Taking a close second and quickly moving in to first is my heritage. Yes, the Italian is somehow taking over the mutt part, and is not only responsible for my big nose, but my ever-growing need to wax as well.
Nevermind the inherited "blonde mustache" and the "peach fuzzy" face, now it's a hardcore black smattering of chin hair, and completely archless, thick eyebrows. Now that I've been forced to wax at least twice a week, I've taken to less public, and less expensive forms of waxing.
I searched Walmart high and low for the best salon alternative, (It always comes back to Walmart, doesn't it?) and bought the biggest at-home waxing kit they sold; which included the canvas strips, redness remover, etc. My story begins six months later, as I'm staring into the mirror, praying that the lighting is bad.
The at-home kit definitely proved worthy, and all was good until I ran out of the strips....
You see, I still had more than enough wax(oddly enough), so I thought I might just buy the strips. Of course Walmart doesn't sell the strips separately! Why would they do that?! Back at square one with no strips in which to remove my ever-growing brows, I began to search around my house for anything that even came close to canvas. I found that I actually did have canvas cloth in my sewing bag, tried it out and it worked perfectly. I've been using it ever since; that is, until it ran out....
So, this morning, desperately in need of a good waxing, I began again to hunt around the house, hoping that maybe the canvas cloth had magically reproduced in my bag.
I never did find more cloth, but as I was searching high and low, I did discover my husband's old t-shirt in a pile of rags under the sink. Hmmm...I figured perhaps that it might not make a difference; that maybe all material would work the same way...that is, until I ripped off the wrong part of my eyebrow, forcing me to paint it on with a brown sharpie. Yes, I find that sometimes I am way too honest.

My first advice: Don't ever take my advice. Secondly, Mom I'm sorry you raised such a stupid idiot.