I have short, maybe even stubby, eyelashes. I wasn't aware of this defect until the other day when my oldest daughter helpfully noted that 'your eyelashes aren't as long as mine.'
As if it were a contest.
After I explained to her that her comment made me feel rejected and worthless, less than human, and played havoc with my inferiority complex, I got to thinking. And that is the beginning of many an ill-fated adventure and pseudo-scientific Lecture From Mom.
Katie, I explained, the length of my eyelashes relative to yours is the end product of a billion years of evolution. Once upon a time, the survival of the human species depended on the ability of the female to attract the male with the best DNA and survival skills. In prehistoric times, these things went together; today, sadly, they do not. Stay away from the modern survivalist! Long lashes to bat, succulent lips to pout, the flirtatious body language of youth - these are the tools you are given to complete your genetic purpose. I am married with children and no longer burdened by Darwinian necessity. My eyelashes can be stubby, as can my legs. In fact, the stubby eyelashes probably enable better vision, thus better maternal protection. The offspring are more likely to survive to bat their own lashes and add their DNA to the gene pool. Once they're in a stable, married relationship, of course.
I was so proud of this convoluted analogy, I detailed it out for the husband. His response? Everybody our age is getting divorced and jumping back into the gene pool.
Threat or promise? You decide.
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