My friend is a cancer survivor. While her ordeal is not mine to write about I do feel comfortable saying that her experience with chemotherapy was terrible on many, many levels, both expected and unexpected. One of the unexpected levels of terribleness involved the loss of her eyebrows and eyelashes.
Cancer and chemo for a loved one? That’s a kind of awfulness that’s damn near impossible to wrap your head around. You can devour every “how to be supportive” site on the web, be a shoulder to cry on over Skype, and overnight comfort foods. But ultimately you can’t tackle the problem directly. Unless you’re an oncologist which no one in our group of friends is.
The specific issue of eyelash and eyebrow cosmetic enhancements? That’s a whole other ballgame. That you can address head on. You can take hypoallergenic eyelash adhesive for a test drive by ugly crying your way through Steel Magnolias. You can find a place that makes custom color eyebrow filler powder. You can delve into the absurdly expansive makeup culture on YouTube, discover that eyeliner politics is an honest to God thing, and then laugh so hard it turns out you didn’t need to watch Steel Magnolias to put that new adhesive through the wringer after all.
During times of crisis, some communities rally around a quilting project. Others go on prayer retreats. We bought Ardell in bulk.
The other day I was in Target and found myself browsing through the eye cosmetics section noting with pleasant surprise that the Katy Perry brand of falsies has expanded to offer some options that might work especially well for people with almond shaped eyes.
A group of teenaged girls stared at me with my giant mom purse and five year old in tow. I imagine that they thought it was more than a little ridiculous that someone like me was so interested in adorning her lids with something so Kardashian-esk. I suppose that in a way they’re right. But I don’t care. I’ll always love fake eyelashes.