I’m taking a sharp turn from last week’s far more intense topic of being a sometimes controlling a-hole to talk about something I’ve come to truly dislike. It’s also a sharp turn from a blog post on this exact topic I wrote about a year ago, when I was singing the praises of face tarantulas — um, I mean eyelash extensions.
Most of us have heard of eyelash extensions, and many of us have been tempted to give them a try (especially us millennials — glamorous, “low-maintenance” makeup is always appealing, right?). I know tons of people who are huge fans of lash extensions, and I get it. Right after you get them done, they are so gorgeous and perfect and really open up your eyes. But after a couple of go-rounds, I’m done.
I’ll take the three minutes in the morning to swipe on some mascara to my normal-length lashes and save the $1,300 per year for important things like shoes and ice cream, thank you very much. (This has been my mascara of choice for several years running.)
I USED TO LOVE THEM. This is obvious, since I was pretty gung-ho in that post last year and got a new set about a month-and-a-half ago. But since getting them a little while ago and having them touched up once, I’ve made the decision that they are 100-percent not for me.