Not that Love/Hate, as I’m sure it would involve some class of blunt object.
This love/hate: the amazing look of eyelash extensions, and their less savoury aspects. Search the eyelash extension tag for the saga in its entirety; they look stupid fabulous, but amongst the things that I found dislikable were A} the time one of these bad girls got stuck in my eye, and B} the feeling that I never quite got eyeshadow or eyeliner — or any of the make up around my eyes — completely cleaned off.
The pictures tell the tale; every time I see this shot, I feel like doing it all over again.
And this one, which was taken during week five, in which I supplemented them with mascara, which I was expressly told not to do. I look like Bambi, or some other class of cartoon doe:
And just for compare-and-contrast purposes, this is the way my eyes look on an average, unextended day:
Like Dreyer’s Saint Joan, with fewer Inquisitors.
I’ve had many, many treatments this year, and this was the one that was the most noticeable. After the first post, the amount of people squinting at my face was rivalled only by the curiosity when I got The Botox that time. There were also so many scary stories about lashes never growing back, which luckily didn’t happen. Would I do it again? Well, as long as I don’t look at those pictures, the answer is always No way…
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