Do you know the pleasure of scratching your eyes? If you’ve ever had allergies I’m guessing you can relate. There’s that instant satisfaction that keeps you rubbing.
Rubbing and rubbing, till it becomes uncontrollable. Your eye goes red. Pleasure turns into ITCH.
That’s right, baby – I just pulled out double punctuation; much debated, but ultimately useful for expressing my confusion and exasperation.
Unfortunately my eye lashes are starting to fall out, no thanks to my scratching. The bottom row is nearly gone, the top is hanging in there – but today I’ve spotted a thinning patch. A friend suggested I get eye drops, and so I have, because lashes and eyebrows serve an important purpose. Who knows what little dusties will find their way onto my retina?
It’s really strange to become so physically transformed. This lack of hair makes me feel like a blank slate . . .like Wooly Willy, that magnetic face I used to play with during car trips – you know him? He’s got a bare face and you can shape tiny iron filings into moustaches and beards and hair. Well I’m that guy, but without any metal shreds. And my nose is smaller.
It’s strange. I see students with their long wavy hair and actually feel jealous. Ugh, frankly, I am not interested in being jealous and so remind myself that while they have hair, they also have essays. And essays are no fun. Ha! I have no essays!
Maybe I’m getting a little crazy, a little facially fixated. This too shall pass, and when I’m not thinking about it, I don’t worry at all. 🙂 And I don’t even worry too much when I do think about – but writing condenses my emotions to make their flavour stronger.
Anyhow, there it is, my facial hair is still falling. On the bright side Zsolt and I have been debating whether or not my head is more fuzzy. We think it may be, which would be a good sign of regrowth.
Fuzzy wuzzy was a bear, but fuzzy wuzzy had no hair . . . Yeah, me neither.
Alright, I’m going to stop writing about this.
Have a lovely day!