One month ago yesterday, I lost a very important piece of me – my eyelashes.
Not all of them, but enough to vault me into the treacherous world of falsies, online tutorials and shame. In this post, you’ll note that I lost my eyelashes in a freak accident involving my 2-year-old, an overzealous tickeling match, and an iphone. Don’t all tragedies start like that?
After the immediate shock, and tears, and some ice to get the swelling down, I trekked through the local Ulta store in search of false replacements, pending a preschool party which required my happy face within 24 hours. I had one day to find lashes, figure out how to apply them and train myself not to scratch anything above my nose or below my hairline.
Have you ever used false eyelashes? It’s INSANE. There are about a million different lengths, styles and colors. You can find clear glue, tinted glue and “stickies”. You can buy small pieces of lashes, full sets, or partials. In the store, I became a bit overwhelmed. Still swollen and lash-less, I avoided the helpful store workers, scooped up 6 brands in varying styles, 2 glues and some adhesives tape and bolted.
Once home, I realized that most, let’s say at least 5 of what I purchased, were long, dark, thick and … prostitute-y.
Nothing says “Hi, I’m Amanda and we need to hurry up this party because my shift is starting at the local strip joint in half an hour” like hooker eyes.
With a little help, and a whole lot of whining via Twitter and Facebook, I realized that I’d need to cut each lash in half, and apply each to the outter corner. Well, that’s great and all, but didn’t help me figure out how to actually glue the darn things to my eyelids without also glueing my finger to my lids, or the lashes to my tweezers, or my existing lashes together a-la scary movies.
Around 9:30 PM that night I accepted my fate – one thick, black line across my upper lid, (to hide the glue line) well-positioned half-false lashes and a prayer that no one would want to have a conversation with me at the preschool function in the morning.
One the bright side, I could easily transition my “daytime look” to a “nighttime look” with some bright red lipstick, torn panty hose and a pimp. Also on the bright side, one month later, they have still not started to grow back.
My name is Amanda and my last name is hardly pronounceable. I’m currently 25 and the mother of 2 half-breed monkey/gorilla hybrids wonderfully rowdy boys (under 5), blogging LIVE! from a city somewhere in Alabama… I have the personality of a 6′6″ man trapped in a 4′10.5″ body. I’m loud, sometimes bitchy, occasionally moody, disorganized yet incredibly passionate and a total goofball. My friends just think I’m odd and that’s fine by me.
You can read more from Amanda over at hush, amanda and you can follow her on twitter @hushamanda