As I float out into my mid-30s, I've found a fair bit of peace. I know what I like, and I like what I know. But even though I've settled into some fairly solid foundations, there are still cracks - little anxieties that I can't quite shake off, because I'm a millennial, and we are beset by these things. Now and again, my nerves manifest in twitching fingers. Like tiny, spindly JCBs, they'd crawl up to my brow and pluck the hairs one by one, only clocking out when they'd extracted something thick and full enough for a Pyrrhic victory (it could have been my scalp too, but genetic baldness has been a blessing in disguise).

Trichotillomania, the proper term for the psychological compulsion to pull one's hair out, is pretty common. The Anxiety & Depression Association of America cites one study that estimates that around six in every 1,000 people are affected. These days, I'm blessed enough to be over it (big up my therapist). But the scars remain. My eyebrows are slightly patchy, the skin around it arid and damaged. And, when new hairs do sprout through, they can be wiry, unruly; the brows of a wizened grandad who, in life's autumn, has learnt to give very few fucks.

Sadly, I do give a fuck. Maybe that's because humans might be evolutionarily predisposed to big eyebrows. Researchers at the University of York theorised that early man may have developed a thicker, stronger brow ridge to mark physical dominance. Around the time we began inventing wheels, thick eyebrows were considered powerful and beautiful. The Greek historian Herodotus wrote that if a pet cat died a natural death in Ancient Egypt, the entire household would shave their eyebrows in mourning. In the Qajar dynasty in 1800s Iran, men and women shared similar standards of beauty; Harvard academic Afsaneh Najmabadi reasoned that society valued heavy brows and thin moustaches regardless of gender. Sure, eyebrows got skinny like everything else in the '90s. But historically, a strong brow is revered. Look at Dave Franco, Jon Kortajarena or Jake Gyllenhaal - all of them are considered very handsome, and the majestic frown of a Roman emperor plays a large part in such assessments. Plus, thicker eyebrows are everywhere on TikTok.

How do you get your own, then? First, stop plucking. Let those slugs grow naturally, even if it means a period of overgrowth; it's better to trim back the hedge later than dig the whole thing up from the off. Then, bring a growth serum into your daily routine. UKBrow is something of a cult product, as it actually shows some results. It's packed with vitamin E, which, according to a small clinical trial in 2010, can promote hair growth by neutralising free radicals (cellular bad guys) with antioxidants (the little guys that clean everything up). Use it once a day for 12 weeks, and, like your gym progress, take some pics - just don't expect them to be as efficient in the trapping of thirst.

Anecdotal evidence also puts the spotlight on castor oil. The science is lacking, but hordes of Redditors attest to its efficacy. Plus, you can get a bottle for less than a fiver, so it can't hurt to try, right? Know that illusions work just as well too; don't be afraid to top up your eyebrows with a dedicated make-up pencil. Or there's dye - but please consult a professional, lest you look like the teenager that crashed out first at the sleepover.

Of course, it'd be easy to go full Pinterest and drop a motivational affirmation here. But sorry: you are not enough. Not in your own eyes, at least. The boom in men's wellness brands like Hims and Manual points to a whole host of insecurities that are fixed not through self-acceptance, but with pills, oils or even surgery. Luckily, the quest for thicker eyebrows is nowhere near as invasive, or risky. Castor oil not perking things up? No problem. Hair transplant that's caused septicaemia and an angry crop rotation on your crown? Bit of a problem, to be honest.

After a few months of maintenance, my own brows are feeling fuller, healthier, a little more like an anime villain. That's not to say I've found nirvana. Sometimes, I get overwhelmed, and my knuckles tingle, and I want to pull out hairs at the root with brute force for reasons I can't fully articulate or understand. But these days, I don't pick at my anxieties so much. I just apply a potion instead.

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