I have permed my own eyelashes. Now there’s a sentence I never imagined saying, but it’s true. I did it and I’m actually pleased with the results. What I’m not pleased about is that I was so bored I even thought about doing it in the first place. I have been mindlessly scrolling through Facebook far more than is probably healthy but because I just want human contact. I am convinced that those folks at Facebook probably have an algorithm to see that I have straight eyelashes that were in need of perming and therefore filled my feed with targeted ads.
So after feeling compelled to buy a eyelash perming kit, I kept hold of the box for a few days before I felt brave enough to do it. I was wondering if I was actually bored enough to risk my eyesight before deciding that I wasn’t. Instead I watched reviews on YouTube and saw that the girls (I can call them girls because I am old enough to be their mother) had sticky-up eyelashes and healthy looking eyeballs with lids so perhaps I would be okay after all.
It was a very high octane morning: me, the kit, cling film (to wrap the eye, I kid you not), scissors and brown trousers and bicycle clips just in case my fear got the better of me. My stomach was in knots, I guess I could compare it to doing a bungee jump in a foreign country and not understanding the instructions or being able to ask how old the elastic rope was.
Long story short, I did it, I can see, my eyelids didn’t puff up into burnt blisters and a week later my eyelashes are still firmly attached and in their new upright position.
But did it solve my lack lustre life? What do you think?
So, then I watched all of Sex in the City, because I loved it back in the day, and I can confirm that I love it still. I marvelled at how out of date it was. I giggled at Carrie’s flip phone and I still envied her shoes. Oh the shoes, the outfits, the fun. I miss my friends so much. I’d love nothing more than to go out for lunch and have a giggle about stuff. You know the stuff I mean, you’d be cracking up, but if you tried to tell someone else they’d stand there confused waiting for the punchline whilst watching you laugh.
I ordered myself a pair of gold flip flops to see if that would help, to focus my mind on summer and potential freedom. They did, momentarily. I sat back looking at my gold flip flops and wondered if they understood how much pressure they were under, how much hope they hold, that I’m looking forward to a day when it does matter that my toenails don’t look like the window frame of a derelict house. That my moustache, which is currently up there with the Go Compare man, won’t be hidden under a mask. That me, my lip gloss and permed eyelashes will be asking a waiter for another cheeky glass of wine and deciding if we’re having starters and mains or mains and dessert. Cheers to that!