I was in mid-eyelash when I heard a knock on the door.

“Can I use the bathroom?” my husband asked through the door.

“No.” I replied.

“No?”

“No.”

“Why?” he wondered.

“I’m putting on my mascara and I’m mid-eyelash. You can’t interrupt me in the middle of the process.”

“Why?”

“It’ll mess the whole thing up. The mascara will dry and then when I try to put on the second coat my eyelashes will clump. Then I’ll have to take it all off and start over.”

“Clumping is bad?” he asked.

“Yes. Very bad.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

Of course, he didn’t understand. He’s a guy. He has no idea how complex this whole getting ready process is. I knew that if I was going to get any support on this, I was going to have to womansplain this to him in terms he could understand.

“It’s like when you’re blowing glass. You have this window while the glass is hot and melty and you can shape it however you want. But if you stop in the middle it’ll harden and you can’t shape it anymore,” I explained.

“What does that have to do with eyelashes?”

“You have to work in the window.” I replied.

I could see we weren’t making progress. Mascara was not in his wheelhouse of knowledge, and clearly, neither was blowing glass. I thought I’d try a different tack.

“Okay, it’s like when you blow dry your hair,” I continued.

“I don’t blow dry my hair,” he said.
“Yes, but if you did you would know that you can’t do it when it’s soaking wet, but it can’t be completely dry either. It has to be damp. That’s the window.”

“The window thing again?” he repeated.

“Yeah.”

“I still don’t get it.” he admitted.

I sighed. I realized I was going to have to get down on his level to get through.

“Okay, it’s like when you shave. Your face has to be wet so you don’t cut yourself. But if you stop and then go back to it, your face will be dry so you have to wet it all over again, right? That’s your window of shaving.”

“Right.”

“So you get it now?” I asked him.

“Yes, I get it. Can I use the bathroom now?”

“No. Now I have to blow dry my hair,” I told him.

He started to leave to use the downstairs bathroom but then turned back to me.

“It’s very complicated to be a woman, isn’t it?” he said.

“Yes, it is.”

“I know how to make it easier,” he said.

“How?”

“I can throw your mascara and blow dryer out the window.”

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