My first post-lash extension selfie. These are strip lashes left over from Halloween. Much better than my sphynx look.
I’ve been traveling quite a bit over the last several months and so has my lash girl, Robin. When I finally got back to Kauai after the new year, it had been over three weeks since my last appointment and I was desperate for a fill.
My right eye was reluctantly hanging onto a handful of lashes, but the majority of them had fallen off. My left eye was as bald as a sphynx. Only, not as cute.
After a frantic, late-night text where I basically begged Robin to let me come over for a slumber party/lash fill, I realized I’d have to accept my naked eyes: Robin was on vacation.
Fast forward about ten days and I’m living a lash-free life. This is totally by choice as I could have easily made an appointment somewhere else, but I didn’t. (I’m loyal, what can I say?) And when Robin texted me to say she was back and had an opening yesterday, I decided to wait it out. I haven’t experienced extension-free lashes in over three years and it’s kind of… liberating. Only, not really.
Here’s a few life lessons I’ve learned from having lash extensions:
1) If your lash girl doubles as your therapist, you win. I’ve had my lashes done in New York, Chicago and San Francisco and there isn’t anyone that compares to my Robin. When you have a lash girl that gets it right, all else in the world is right (see #2). It’s a crazy bonus that Robin is super smart and doubles as my life coach/therapist. My twice-monthly lash sessions are equally as good for my soul as my self-esteem. It’s like I win the lash lottery every single time I see her.
2) Everyone looks prettier with lash extensions. Especially me. This is my biased opinion but there’s something super fabulous about waking up in the morning and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror with lash extensions. Oh, hello gorgeous. A few times a week I meet my girlfriends at the ungodly 5:45 a.m. hour so we can sweat it out before starting our days. Grabbing coffee on the way home in my sweaty running gear isn’t as gross as it could be when I have mile-long lashes to bat at the barista. (Maybe I don’t actually look prettier with lash extensions, but I definitely FEEL prettier. And, frankly, that’s all that matters.)
3) Rubbing your eyes is overrated. I really thought I’d LOVE rubbing my eyes again after three years of obstructed access, but it doesn’t feel as good as I remember. It could be that I wear contacts and I can’t really go after the rubbing, but… meh. Not as satisfying as I had hoped.
4) Prepare to give something up. As with most good things in life, having lash extensions is an investment in both time and money. Be prepared to give it up. If your lash girl doubles as your therapist then YOU WIN. Otherwise, you don’t. Decide if the cost and time commitment are worth waking up to Bambi staring back at you in the mirror every morning. I know, it’s a tough choice.
5) There’s a fine line, don’t cross it. As long as you find a lash girl that has your back and won’t let you walk out of her lash lab looking like a hooker, you should be fine. But try to steer clear of the uni-lash look. Pre-Robin, I went to this lash girl that would basically glue all my lashes together for the sake of time. I mean, I’m not sure what she was thinking but we are no longer on speaking terms. Find a lash specialist that takes the time to glue each lash on individually. Someone who prefers you look like Bambi and not a porn star. (Disclosure: I am FULL AWARE that the strip lashes I’m wearing in the photo above have dangerously crossed the line of appropriateness. But I’ll have you know those lashes were for photographic effect only and were not worn in public. Therefore I shall not be considered a hooker.)
Why did I decide to live this sphynx-like life, again? Ugh. I’m getting Robin on the phone, stat.