Shed Lashes
Have you ever done something, just because it sounded Cool, only to realize later how foolish it really was? These stories usually are related to high school, but occasionally in the reasonable adult years, there comes a moment when rational thinking gets away from us. We can step out on the wild side and attempt something risky… well, just because.
I went into the decision blindly. I think the lash envy started on the trip to Cabo, Mexico. I had been feeling tired and run down when we made the trip last December. Because of the COVID 19 restrictions in the airport, everyone had to wear masks. It was 4 AM so we weren’t dressed very cute, but I couldn’t help noticing all the women with pretty eyelashes. Certainly, their natural eyelashes weren’t that long. Did they have fake lashes on? Eyelash extensions?
Throughout our trip, the beach was nice, the food was delicious, but the women’s eyelashes were to die for! Somehow I secretly got drawn into comparing myself with them. As I looked in the mirror I was certain that what I needed were longer lashes instead of my short and plain ones.
During Christmas break, I found my opportunity. While in Indiana, visiting Brad’s family, I always go to the mall to get my eyebrows threaded. For a mere $10 the esthetician will trim my eyebrows into sculpted beauty with string. I somehow enjoy the painful experience. On this occasion, while sitting in the chair looking up at the threader with the string between her teeth ready to start I asked, “Do you do eyelash extensions?”
The eyebrow threading is my Indiana tradition. Every holiday stay I visit the same woman. She is foreign, speaks only a little English, but she recognizes me. She knows when to give me a tissue because her threading makes my eyes water uncontrollably. We are friends in a way. But on this particular day, she was not working. Instead, a younger foreign woman was threading my eyebrows. She didn’t speak much English either and unlike my other threader she wasn’t very friendly, so when she brought out the lashes there was no smile on her face.
“Black or Brown?” she questioned.
I had done no research on eyelash extensions so I just guessed.
“Black,” I answered trying to sound sure.
“Small, medium, or large?”
“Medium?” I shrug.
I sat back in the chair imagining my eyelashes looking beautiful. In my mind, this was like gluing on eyelashes at home but they would just last a little longer like 3-5 days at the most. I tried to relax as the black glue came dangerously close to my pupil. I imagined myself looking younger. Perhaps I would look smarter with my new lashes in that horrible camera screen at the Walmart self-check-out. With tweezers the process was slow. I was surprised when she kept applying more and more lashes. I think she went through two packs of singles. When I finally opened my eyes I had two substantial caterpillars resting on my eyelids. To say I looked a little ridiculous was being kind.
Instantly I knew this was going to be more than I first imagined. The lashes were heavy and seemed to be stuck with some kind of globby black super glue. The lady didn’t tell me anything about what to expect or how to get them off. Instead, she just walked me over to the cash register to pay. I followed her almost blindly as the heavy lashes made it hard to see.
right after the eyebrow threading and lashes were installed
When Brad saw me he laughed, and I laughed with him. What had I done?
The Christmas dinner that night was interesting too. The extended family was gathered around the table stealing glances at my hideous lashes. Sensing their questions, I made jokes about my new extensions to put everyone else at ease. Still, I knew they were wondering: WHAT IN THE WORLD IS DIANNE THINKING? The truth was, I could hardly see them at all because the lashes were so heavy it was like lifting weights. I only had the strength to squint because my eyes were tapped out.
On the trip home I started to realize the lashes were cemented on. In a week they hadn’t budged. I sighed, understanding instantly that I was going to have to face my small community with these ridiculous eyelashes, I had no idea how to remove.
Vanity Oh Vanity!
The first Sunday back well-wishers at church tried to say something encouraging as they avoided eye contact. In the Highschool drama group as I was helping with lines the students whispered to my two daughters, “What is up with your mom, does she actually like those things?”
The weeks passed slowly. Thankfully my eyelid muscles were gaining strength. I could keep my eyes open all day. Now it was a matter of not snagging the little monsters on my sweater when I tried to take it off to get into my Pajamas.
One day, I got sick of the single straggler eyelash at the inside corner of my eye, I had been trying to make it conform to the rest of the lashes for weeks. I noticed it was a little bit loose, so I ripped it off. To my horror, my eyelashes came off with it. Oh no! I realized this was worse than I thought. These things weren’t coming off without taking my natural eyelashes with them.
Three more weeks went by, I was starting to accept these spider leggy lashes as my new look. Straight on, I reasoned, they didn’t look that bad. Still, I wondered how in the world I could get them off my face. I looked up YouTube videos. I asked a few experienced friends. It was pretty clear that I would have to get them removed professionally to save my natural eyelashes. But there was one problem with getting them removed by a professional, I was embarrassed.
Vanity Oh Vanity!
So I put off the inevitable, until one day I had enough! After a snowball fight that felt like it left my eyelid bleeding, I was ready. I looked up one more video about how to remove them at home. Using Castor Oil I gently rubbed my lashes, the oily substance dissolved the tar-like glue until the lashes started to loosen up and fall into my hand. After they were all off I looked soberly into the mirror.
Looking back at me was the same face that sat down in the threader’s chair over six weeks earlier except now my poor eyelids were bare. I was deeply embarrassed. I couldn’t let my family see my eyelash catastrophe. I quickly came up with a plan so they wouldn’t know the truth, MY EYELIDS WERE BALD!
My plan was simple enough. I went to the Dollar General store disguised in sunglasses to buy over-the-counter eyelashes. I snuck in the back door on tiptoe to the bathroom where I quickly locked the door. As quiet as I could, I glued on my first set of false lashes. The plan to keep my shame secret was to set my alarm early the next morning to put them on before anyone woke up. I would also stay up until everyone else went to bed before taking them off. The secret work took a solid twenty minutes to put on and remove the eyeliner, glue, and lashes, but it was worth it.
I carried on this routine for four months until one day Lydia came into my bedroom before I was up and ready to go. In a moment of tiredness, I answered her question with partially bald eyes.
“Mom, do you put on false lashes?” she asked.
That is when the truth gushed out. “Yes!” I admitted as I poured out my mistake and the horror I felt to walk around with naked eyelids.
She smiled and looked at me tenderly, “Mom, you don’t have to wear fake ones, you are still pretty, and look your lashes are growing back…”
I ran to the mirror. With my face an inch away from my reflection, I studied the dear little lashes poking out. Each one was a little message of forgiveness. I whispered to them: “I will never despise you again.”
A few months later, a friend of mine offered to give me eyelash extensions. I laughed out loud. “No thank you, I like my eyelashes just the way they are.”
Sometimes it takes a foolish decision to learn to appreciate what you had all along.