Lover of Splendid

It was inevitable that the lashes would end horrendously. Saturday morning I find my left has shed 85% of the falsies, but instead of them falling clean off, they were matted within my own lashes. Frantic calls to the said salon were met with nothing so I took matters into my own hands and painfully freed them - along with many of my own lashes. Having had to walk around with one eye on/one eye off (think Clockwork Orange meets Gabrielle - thank god for a sweep fringe), the right hand side were removed. When I first saw my eyes sans falsies, I thought they looked bare but put it down to being used to the big ones. Sadly, this wasn’t the case. Pre this particular set of falsies, my lashes were long, curled naturally and plentiful, albeit it a bit thin (hence wanting thicker falsies). Now, they’re a shadow of their former selves. Some go straight, others curl, the rest go in different directions like they’re fighting to be free. And considering there’s only about 10 of them on each eye, it isn’t good. Not good at all people. The lesson I’ve learnt is to stick to my gut instincts - I thought they were too much and it turns out they were. Please come back natural lashes. I promise never to harm you again….

It has taken me a while to write this post because I’m still not sure how I feel about them. As no stranger to the individually applied false lashes, I decided to go for them again for a charity ball. They were ideal, giving me an extra slice of glam which I’m always needing, but apres ball, I feel a little, well- - whisper it - Essex. Now this is by no means a dig at Essex ladies (after all, my Dad is an Essex boy) but perhaps it’s the constant sightings of TOWIE ladies that have got me worrying I’m slowly but surely becoming one of them. And that’s not quite what I set out to be in life…