One of the cruel genetic twists of fate dealt to me through the procreative canoodling of my mother and father is that, although the follicular fortitude of my cranium is found lacking, with the result being a horseshoe expanse of head desert by the age of 23, the rest of my body is fertile ground for vast amounts of post-pubescent hair growth.
In other words, there's no hair on my head, but there's plenty on my body, including huge eyebrows and excessively long and thick eyelashes.
The thing about my eyelashes is that I think they actually undergo a monthly menstrual cycle, and there's a few days each month when my eyelashes slough off en masse. And, typically, two-thirds of the eyelashes that parachute downward inevitably fall into my eyes.
There are few irritations that equal that felt when an eyelash welds itself to a contact lens. One second you're happily blinking away unhindered, and the next you're practically in tears trying to blink an eyelash off your lens, enduring a unique kind of minute pain that feels like you accidently jammed a pin into your eyelid, over and over and over again.
Once an eyelash has glued itself to a contact lens, you pretty much only have two options. You can blink into perpetuity and hope that, eventually, the deluge of tears flooding your eye as a result of irritated pain will wash the offending lash off the contact lens. Or, you can hightail it to the nearest bathroom, peel your contact lens off, and wash it with tap water. It's entirely up to you, of course, and it all depends on your tolerance for irritating pain. I tend to endure the blinking solution for roughly three minutes before making my way to the bathroom.
Today, as of 10:30 a.m., I have had to flush my eyes of no less than FIVE eyelashes, and I can't help but believe there are more on the way.
Lousy genetics.
Posted by Ryan at March 18, 2004 10:46 AM
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