The Weave

Loom Lashing
Do it again?

Yes, I will.

The mall? OK. The day before my daughter went back to her college dorm, I would have done anything for her. Leggings, heat spray, gum. Easy. Photo prints, hamper, rug. Fine. At least my pocketbook knew what it was like to lose weight.

It was a lashing.

A weave? OK. The day before my old self goes back to a coed campus, I would have done anything for my vintage self. Arrive, sit, $10. Easy. Recline, close your eyes, hold your brow. Fine. Until my eyeballs knew what it was like to feel the soft flesh holding them in, attacked by a piece of thread – moving at 100 miles an hour – and yanked, repeatedly, grabbing at my old school Brook Shields brows – fast and hard – until a tear ran down my face.

It was a lashing.

Do it again?

Yes, I will.

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