Eyelashes Gone Wild

This is the story of a great friend, an ending deployment, and some eyelashes that wouldn't let go.

As I type this, my cousin Danielle is getting ready to move back to Kansas.  She may have even left by now.  I'm so glad that she's headed there, because her husband is coming home soon from his deployment in Kuwait (YAY!).  She'll have her husband back.  Her kids will have their dad back.  It's 99% happy, but 1% sad because she's leaving a lot of family back here who love her very much.  Her parents are here, most of her siblings are here, and a lot of her cousins are here, including one sitting in a downtown coffee shop thinking about how much I am going to miss her and those fabulously crazy kids.  NOW who will I take to Chuck E. Cheese?  NOW who will call me their aunt even though I'm not?  NOW who will force me to watch Paw Patrol?  No one, that's who.

Yesterday I was supposed to go say goodbye to Dani and her kids when I got out of work.  I texted when I was on my way, and I got a call when I was about halfway to her house:  "Meet me at the mall," she said.  "Right now.  This day is NOT GOING WELL."

"What's wrong?"  I asked.  Dani is almost never alone away from her kids, and I knew she wasn't planning to be at the mall this afternoon.  Also, what kind of catastrophe happens at the mall?

"I got false eyelashes put on because I thought it would be good to look nice for Jordan, you know?  I was like, 'Oh, great idea, this will look pretty and be low maintenance while we move to Kansas.'  But then the lady put them on, and I look like a TOTAL STRIPPER.  Like, it is BAD.  So I asked her to take them off, and she can't because they're superglued or whatever, and she doesn't have anything that can get them off!"

I have to admit, I was skeptical at first.  "What do you mean she can't take them off?  They're false eyelashes.  Just take them off."  I quickly assessed the streets I was on and tried to figure out the best way to get to the mall.  I turned around in a parking lot and headed toward the eyelash disaster.  Dani kept talking.

"I know!  I had no idea it would be this difficult!  I've gone to every salon at the mall.  Apparently no one can take these off without yanking out my real eyelashes, and I want to have SOME eyelashes!  One salon said that the owner is coming in at 3:30, and she might have some goo that could dissolve the adhesive.  I'm waiting in the food court for her to get here.  Are you here yet?  Ugh.  They're so itchy.  I hate them!  And they look awful. I look scary."

"Dani, I'm sure they're not that bad," I assured her.  "Maybe you'll get used to them."

"Nope, not happening.  I promise.  They're terrible.  Wait till you see."

"You're exaggerating," I responded.  Even as I said it, I thought in the back of my mind that Dani is not really the type of person to exaggerate.  She's one of the most chill, go-with-the-flow people I've ever met.  I started getting pretty curious about this.  I drove faster.  "I'll be right there," I said.  "Where exactly are you?"

"In the food court, to the right of the carousel.  Ugh.  Hurry up."  We hung up, and I finally drove into the mall parking lot.  I grabbed my purse and headed in to assess the situation.  When I walked in, I quickly found Danielle.  I was completely determined to say, "They're not that bad," but here's the thing about me: I'm a really bad liar.   Plus, when she saw my face, she burst out laughing, so then I started laughing too.  "It's fine," I finally said.  "The lady with the remover will be here in ten minutes, it will all be back to normal, and this will be a really funny story."

"Right," she said, teetering on that perilous line between laughing and crying.  "It will be funny when they're off,"

"It's a little funny now..." I said, making her smile. "I really wish you had a blog, because this would be a great post."

"You blog it," she said.  "Someone might as well get some entertainment out of this!"  And, as a side bonus, now she can always remember this story (Hi Dani!).

We went to wait in the white egg-shaped chairs of the mall salon, and the workers looked at Danielle sympathetically.  "She should be here soon," one of the workers said, referring to the eyelash redeemer.  Danielle rubbed her eyes again, complaining that the eyelashes were so itchy and heavy.

"This is awful," she said, sinking back into her chair.  "I used to be a LuLaRoe consultant, but people are going to start calling me a LuLaHo consultant.  Why did this have to happen today?  If I had a first date or something, I would cancel it for a week or two.  I can't cancel my husband coming home from deployment!  He's going to think his wife turned into a freak!"

"What did you tell the lady you wanted?" I wondered.  I wanted to know what type of order produced these eyelashes.

"I said I wanted natural!" Danielle whined.  "Natural!  Like I was wearing mascara! And then she did this, and I said it didn't look natural, but the lady said, 'I know, but you look beautiful instead of natural!'"  That threw me into another fit of laughter, because that's a pretty rude thing to say.  Dani started laughing again too, because laughter tends to be contagious.

"You're going to be fine," I assured her.  "The lady is almost here."

As if on cue, the owner of the salon walked in.  The receptionist pointed to Dani, and the owner walked over.

"Can you fix me?" Danielle asked before even introducing herself.  Her voice was filled with equal parts hope and desperation.  The lady took one look at the eyelashes and said, "Whoa.  I make no promises.  Come on back and let me take a look."

I wished Dani luck and went to wait in my egg chair.  A couple minutes later, Dani and the owner came back out of the room.  Dani still had the eyelashes.

"She says it will take over an hour," Danielle said.  "I have to come back later."

"But she can do it?" I asked.  "That's great!  See?  It's all going to be okay!"

"I think I can do it," the owner interrupted, "but it will take a while.  This is no quick fix.  They're like...fuzzy creatures."

That is literally the phrase she used: "fuzzy creatures."  Danielle made an appointment to come back later, but she didn't want to wait for a 7:00 appointment.  She wanted the eyelashes off immediately.  We went to two other area salons, and at both they looked at her sympathetically but said there was nothing they could do.  Finally we went to Sally's Beauty Supply, but guess what?  They were all out of eyelash remover.  The designated place on the shelf was there, but that place was empty.

This was really not Danielle's day.

Finally we found a kit of fake eyelashes, and the kit came with a tiiiiiny bottle of remover.  We're talking maybe a quarter of an ounce, but maybe that was all we would need!  Success!  Danielle took the setup to the register.

"Will this take THESE off my face?" she asked, pointing to her face as if it was infested with something disgusting.  The lady at the cash register nodded.

"It should work," she said.  "But if it doesn't, that could be a good look if you go to clubs a lot.  It just might look a little strange in the day."

"I'm a mom!" Dani almost yelled.  "I have five kids!  I'm not going to any clubs!"

"Oh,well then, yes that should work," the Sally's worker said with a low to medium degree of certainty.  We took the kit and rushed back to Danielle's house.  When we walked in, the house was in pandemonium.  Her kids, sister, brother, and parents were all there and all trying to get various things done in preparation for the move.  Her sister needed a ride to Bible study in ten minutes.

"Crap!" Dani said.  "I forgot about Bible study!  Okay, we need to get this done fast.  If I feed Tucker, can you put this oil junk on my eyes?"  I agreed and tried to find a q-tip, but they were already packed up.  I asked about a paper towel, but those were all packed up too.  Finally I asked Dani how in the world I was supposed to put this stuff on, and she suggested diaper wipes.  Would the oil sink in too much?  I said diaper wipes should probably work because they're water based, this was oil, and...well...science.  Dani said, "I don't know what you're talking about, but just get these off my eyes."  Roger that, amigo.  Dani reclined on the couch and breast fed her baby while I stood over her and started using oiled diaper wipes to try to get falsies off of her eyes.  It was an odd moment.

"That stings a little," she said.  "Is it working?"

"Umm, not yet," I said, thinking that perhaps there was a reason none of the salons would touch this project.  Who were we to think we could DIY this thing?

"Okay," Danielle said.  "Maybe we need to let it sit a while.  But it kind of stings.  Actually, you know what?  It kind of burns.  Okay actually, ow, it really burns.  Can I have a clean diaper wipe?  Ow, I have to get this off."

I handed her a diaper wipe and watched her start scrubbing at her eyes.  I shook my head.  How on earth could false eyelashes be this difficult to get off?!  Dorothy had to get to Bible study, so I said my goodbyes and headed out, feeling bad for leaving Dani with her new va-va-voom look.

I talked to Dani later that evening and found out that she ended up going back to the mall for her 7:00 appointment.  It took the owner lady two hours to get the eyelashes off.  The important thing is that she did get them off, though, and now Danielle will be feeling back to her old self for her husband's homecoming.  All's well that ends well, right?  Dani said sorry for the drama, that this afternoon was probably not how I pictured saying goodbye.  Then we agreed that it was a fitting ending to what has been an absolutely insane year.  Why not end it on a crazy note as well?  Also, now that the eyelashes are officially off, the story has been converted from an impending crisis to a funny memory.

See you later, Danielle.  I'm glad you left your eyelashes in Kalamazoo.  Welcome home, Jordan.  You guys have a pretty fantastic family.  Please come visit soon.