Swollen Eyes

They're just not a good look for the pretty femme who's trying to start her day. You know the eyes I'm talking about. Where you wake up in the morning after crying yourself to sleep, and your first view of yourself is the nasty, pale stranger you see in the mirror.

The upper lid of your eyes looks as though if it had swollen just a tiny bit more, you wouldn't be able to see the top part of your iris. If you had cried any more than that, you may not be able to even open your eyes the next morning. It's a tragic look for those red, marred, almost translucent upper lids.

Then there's the lower lid. It looks like you've aged well beyond your years in just one night. The swollen folds are plentiful and they're backed up by the great dark arrows pointing to your tear ducts as if to say, "Here! Here's who's responsible folks!"

Get the lynch mob.

When I was a torn teenager, I used to wish that there was a way to remove tear ducts. Crying was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I was horrified when I was in high school one day and I was a blubbering mess who slithered in to the back of my friends' class and sat beside the first desk. Lisa had it together and was always happy, yet there I was crouched down as if I were tied in a straight jacket weeping and what does this happy, positive, sunshiny girl say?

"Your eyes look so pretty when you cry."

I wanted to die right then and there. My tears are the enemy! When I cry, it feels as though every muscle in my body is delivering the tears to my eyes for release. My body aches as if those sinewy masses were responsible for the waterworks that bid adieu. I have always wished I could be that callous person who just never cries. Wouldn't that be the cat's meow?

You know when your mother would say that stupid saying when you made a face, "You're going to get stuck like that"? I hated that. There are many tears to cry in life and every time I wake up to the puffy enemy, the dreaded bloated evidence of the 'cry myself to sleep' tears, I fear that I'm going to look like that forever.

You could do anything to these eyes and nothing but time throughout the day will help. I've tried the slice of cucumber routine. Feels nice, but doesn't work. I've tried the ice packs and nice cold compresses. Nada. It's just a waiting game. And there's no point trying to cover it up with makeup. Wearing less makeup that day is definitely the right option.

But the worst part of all of this, is it's like a tattle tale to my love. Papi comes home from a graveyard shift and I wake up, only to see the pain in the eyes of mi esposo looking at the evidence. The proof that Papi's decision to go through male transformation is killing me.

This is not the picture I want my love to see first thing upon arriving home from the graveyard shift.

It's just not a good look for this pretty femme.