Now, for some of you who may not know, it’s confession time, although if you know me, it’s kind of a duh what I’m about to say . . . I wear false eyelashes every day, thank you very much. You may ask why so I’ll tell you . . .
There is this “thing” in my family, no, not the fact that every damn one of us seems to have some form of ADHD/ADD, no, the nugget of information I gleaned from my mom 15 years ago or so was this, “Well, yes, Sharon, our hair seems to be less on our legs, armpits, and alas our eyelashes. This seems to kick in around our mid-thirties. I only shave about once every few months.” Whaaaaat?
Well, for me the armpit and leg hair can take a damn hike so this was great news but the eyelashes? Hell, I didn’t have so many anyway, what was even less going to be like?
I soon found out . . .
So, yes, just as she predicted around 34 years old, I looked like Spongebob with about 3 eyelashes on each eye. I hated it so much and I looked really weird.
One day, while getting my hair did, my awesome sauce hairdresser who is the coolest chick around, said, “You should let me teach you how to put false ones on.” I practically knocked her down lunging at her with pure excitement only I can produce with untreated, at the time, ADHD. So, I went and bought what she told me and came back a few days later for my lesson.
At the time, I was using single lashes, not strips. Well, the Village (pre-Professor) can attest to this as they meandered over one night to check my new lashes out. My one friend likened me to a doll that you lay back and her eyes close and then when you tilt her up, her eyes open. Do you remember the eyelashes on those dolls? Thick as hell and a bit frightening. I think they are still around, actually.
She was right, they were too long, I got medium-length at the time, and too thick.
And so began my eyelash adventures . . .
Now, when you have very few eyelashes to begin with and then lose more, well to the folks that suggested I get some “sewn” in, that’s pretty much like sewing up air cuz there’s nothing there, y’all!
I also had Lasik surgery a few years prior and they were not big fans of that eyelash growing goo so I was stuck with false ones.
On days when my eyelashes had gotten so thick that it looked like I had caterpillars above my eyes, I’d take a deep breath, take the old ones off, and then proceed to put in probably 50 individual eyelashes on each eye which was very time consuming and tedious. My kids knew to exit stage run when they saw me at my eyelash mirror because words and individual lashes would fly if things got screwed up or better yet if I got that damn glue in my eyes. It feels as if someone has poured burning acid in your eyes. Not kidding it hurts like hell!
So, the individual eyelashes thing continued and along the way, some rather interesting stories surfaced because glue can get old sometimes and not stick so good or it can get too humid or windy and that’s when eyelashes decide to take flight and commit suicide right off of your damn face.
One of the first adventures that I can remember was when I first started dating the Professor. We were at a Green Power race to see his son’s team. It had been warm, humid, and quite windy. As I was standing there talking with the Professor and another lovely couple I had not seen in awhile, I could feel the ever so slight slip of one corner of my eyelash row and thought, “Oh shit, they feel like they are going to come off right in front of the Professor and these two good people.”
Wouldn’t you know it . . .
The next gust did just that and as I felt them break loose from my right eye, the one that always gives me trouble when it comes to my eyelashes, I felt them flutter right down my cheek and into the wind. Of course, you can’t help but notice when someone’s entire eyelash colony suddenly falls off and blows away mid-sentence. These sweet people as well as the Professor spot the suicidal eyelashes and go chasing after them for me so as to keep my embarrassment to a minimum. Bless them.
As I stood there watching them chase the little suckers, it dawned on me that the general public standing around also observing the three of them well, it looked as if they were chasing a No See Um because from where they were, it looked like these 3 people had lost their minds. I couldn’t help myself and busted out laughing at the utter ridiculousness my eyelashes had caused.
Fast forward a bit, the Professor and I are married and one morning around 6 am when it was just a bit light out but not much, I fluttered my little eyes open because I had to go to the bathroom and right before my eyes, I spy a big ass spider on my husband’s back as he slept on his side turned away from me. I almost threw up but I was determined to save his life as I grabbed my flip flop next to the bed, whispered to the Professor to hold still, and then promptly pulverized the “spider.” The Professor was pissed and grossed out that I would smash guts all over him and as I watched the little sucker drop, I realized that oh shit, and reached up feeling a blank space on my right eyelid.
I had beat the shit out of another row of suicidal eyelashes and also beat the shit out of the Professor’s back in the process. I squealed with laughter and nearly wet my pants. The Professor, in his confusion, rolls over and looks at me like I have lost my friggin’ mind as I come back from peeing and says, “What in the hell is wrong with you?”
I could hardly tell him, around my laughter, but finally, he understood, shook his head, and said, “You are damn crazy, woman.” You don’t wake the Professor, he no likey.
Forward a bit more, I’ve decided I can’t stand the tediousness of the single lashes so I end up going through several styles and brands of lash strips and finally find one I like. Gone are the hours and cussing it takes to put them on and a new day of easiness has dawned for me.
Well, the strips are tricky because they are a unit and can get bent and crimped especially if you are like me and sleep in them, so I find myself taking them off pretty much every morning and re-doing them but its cake, it really is.
So, the weirdest of my eyelash adventure stories, there’s a lot more but I have to tell this final one . . .
Last night, I was pooped because I have gotten a huge influx of sweet OT kids/referrals and I’m working A LOT, I’m thankful though but tired at the end of a day. I went to bed at 10:00 pm, which is early for me actually. I had re-done my eyelashes earlier that day and they looked really good and I was so happy because sometimes it doesn’t go so well.
At some point, the Professor comes to bed and at around 3 am, I think I’m dreaming when this happens . . .
I feel movement next to me, I don’t hear it because I wear ear plugs because of the bit of snoring the Professor does sometimes. The next thing I know, a hand rests on my left eye and with precision of a damn Ninja, the Professor apparently thinks his hand is on a spider because he promptly rips my newly applied eyelashes off, rolls back around, then I see him throw it/them on his side of the bed, and he falls back asleep. Are you freaking kidding me right now?
I’m so damn tired, I fall back asleep and forget all about it.
As I reach up to my left eye, I feel flesh and no indication of my eyelash strip. Crap!
So I start to feel around in the bed, under my pillow, inspect the Professor to make sure it hadn’t stuck to him, next to the bed on my side, under the bed, and then it dawns on me suddenly . . . that wasn’t a dream but an assault on my precious eyelashes. As I leap out of bed and sneak around to his side, there lying all alone and cold on the floor, are my victimized eyelashes. Laughter escapes me again as I run into the bathroom so as not to wake the Professor up when it wasn’t time, again, he no likey and he grumpy.
Who knew that eyelashes could have an adventure of their own from suicide, to transforming into a spider, and now assaulted. Poor little things.
My advice to all of you is that if you ever decide to delve into the world of false eyelashes, take heed, there might be an adventure in your future.