I got Preparation H in my eye in a few months ago. I thought I should write that down somewhere. Somewhere ridiculously public. Thought that was kind of noteworthy. Ridiculously, publicly noteworthy….how I got Preparation H in my left eye.
Right in the corner of it, where your eye meets the bridge of your nose. And it didn’t start to tingle until much too late. Like, fiteen minutes later -while I was already driving and couldn’t *flush the eyeball* with anything beside a carafe of coffee. And crying was out. How do you cry about something so blatantly hysterical?
More hilarity would ensue when I later read the warning printed on the PH tube: “For external or intrarectal use only.” Intrarectal. Nice. I didn’t know that word existed. Headline: Half Blind Woman Disocvers New Vocab Word. It sounded like a word I typically make up and pass off in casual conversation as real.
HOW/WHY did I get PH in my eyeball? Because I’d applied it to my puffy under-eyes. Why did I apply it to my puffy under-eyes? Because, somewhere in the late 90s I saw Living in Oblivion. In it an actress (Catherine Keener) playing an actress applies Preparation H to her morning eye bags before filming, explaining (I think) something about how it reduces swollen tissue. At the time I saw this movie I was about 19, maybe 20 years old. Though I’ve always sported various shades of purple under my eyes, puffy bags were a rarity. A byproduct only of long nights partying and little to no sleep. And though I can’t even recall whether or not I even liked Living in Oblivion, I always remembered that one odd little scene.
Lo, all these years later, I have puffy under-eyes. Most mornings my peepers look as though they’re storing nuts for the winter. Giant purple nuts. You think I exaggerate but, trust me, it was Preparation H time. And, to my groggy joy, it sort of worked. Less puff. Less puff enough to use the ointment semi-regularly. Never giving thought to the possible consequences of it seeping into my sockets and making contact with the soft tissue of my precious eyeballs.
In the end, it tingled and slightly stung for about a half an hour. The corner of my left eye protesting my idiocy by turning pink. But no lasting damage, I can still see. I can still see, for instance, how bloated my goddamned under-eyes are every morning. And I’ve since laid off the PH – relying instead on more sleep and less drinking. With maybe an eventual cosmetic surgeon on speed dial? Who knows.
In other, even weirder news: Preparation H goes disco!