A successful author, a woman whose books had deeply influenced me, agreed to meet for coffee at a conference a few years ago. She startled me by asking, “Are your eyelashes getting thinner as you age?”
I had been afraid she’d make me nervous about my writing. Suddenly I was nervous about whether I was using the right mascara.
Not once in my life had I been actively distressed about my eyelashes. Oh sure, I’d slathered them in various kinds of makeup since I was 14, but otherwise my eyelashes were something about which I had never given a — let’s use the word “fig.” I will use “fig” for the remainder of this post, but you should free to substitute whatever expletive suits you best.
There are many things, including the density of my eyelashes, that are now officially on the list of things about which I no longer give a fig. (Boy, I wish I could use a stronger word, but one thing I still worry about is being able to appear in print, so “fig” it is.)