Yesterday, I did a beauty treatment called lash lift. As the name suggests, it's supposed to give a lift to your eyelash, as in push up bra. I regret it.
My lashes are categorized thin and short, the beauticitian told me. Okay, I think, I know I'm not up to the standart but at least she's not pulling punches. Since she's the expert, she should know better of what to do to enhance the lacking in my lashes. I proceeded with caution.
In god honest truth, I didn't enjoy the process of this treatment. I didn't feel relax nor excited to see the result. I just wanted it to be done. My friend was there with me, hyping me up, saying I'd look as pretty as those Insta baddies. Hmm, yeah, I mean, I was never interested in them so, whatever?
The long hour finally passed. I looked in the mirror. Oh, yeah, this probably can be pretty cool, I think. Then I changed my mind the next morning I woke up with lashes STICKING to my eyelid. They didn't look anywhere near flattering. They were stiff and looked fried. I was pissed.
At the end of the day, I got sad looking at my lashes. I was fine with them as they were. They're not much, but I didn't have the need to always looked like a certified pretty girl on the internet. Bottom line, I was fine with how I looked, I accepted it with all my heart. The sadness came from the fact that someone else could say something about me and made me think I needed a fix in my appearance. That someone, I have to admit, made me feel like what I was then was not good enough. And being not good enough is easily a trigger for me.
Now I have to live with not only being less than the common beauty standart, but also, my lashes look dead and pissed me off all the time.
Yep.
