In certain Eastern spiritual traditions, the “Third Eye” is a mystical concept that represents a space of higher consciousness and enlightenment.
For me, it represents a zit right in the middle of my forehead.
“Nice third eye,” said my husband when I woke up one morning.
“Whaaa?” I questioned, running to the mirror in the bathroom.
“Can you see my future?” he asked jokingly.
“Yes,” I said, glaring alternately at him and the large pimple masquerading as another eye on my brow. “And it looks very dark if you don’t stop teasing me.”
Why I am still getting pimples at age 56 is a question for those who are far more enlightened than I.
Fortunately, it’s not a regular occurrence. But lately I had been blessed with an on-again, off-again case of “mask-ney” on my chin that, I noticed, would often resemble the constellation Orion or sometimes, the Big Dipper.
While it was sometimes fun to try to find Saturn in my chin constellations, I would really prefer not to be getting wrinkles and pimples at the same time, on my face, in my fifties. I was definitely the oldest person in the drugstore shopping for Clearasil in the zit care aisle.
According to my family, I already have eyes in the back of my head, and the vision of the two in on my face is pretty sharp, so I really did not see a need for yet another eye on my forehead. I also do not really need a third eye to predict the future, because I already know before I wake up in the morning that the dog will chew up some socks, and my husband will ask me to pick up his dry cleaning.
What can I say? It’s a gift.
I was definitely the oldest person in the drugstore shopping for Clearasil in the zit care aisle.
Since I already had more than enough eyes, and was already somewhat clairvoyant, I decided the new eye had to go, or at least had to get covered up. I was pretty sure that putting an eye patch over the center of my forehead would attract more attention than just leaving the pimple there by itself, so instead, I decided to cover the darn thing up with some makeup and hope no one noticed.
“How you doin’ there, Cyclops,” said my son who was visiting for the weekend when I came downstairs.
“I’ll have you know Cyclops only has ONE eye,” I told him.
“Greetings,” said my daughter, giving me the Vulcan hand wave. “Do you come in peace?”
“I guess you can see it, huh?” I asked them gloomily.
“See what, Mom?” said my son. “You know, my vision’s not as good as yours cuz I only have two eyes.
I gave him the evil eye. All three of them.
Determined not to let this slight imperfection be a blemish on my day, I glopped on more coverstick and went out to run my errands.
Thankfully, most of my morning was uneventful. But then while I was waiting for my turn to pay at the Pet Store, another customer tapped me on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” she asked. “Do you see the Greenies anywhere?” I looked behind me at the vast assortment of dog bones hanging on the wall and immediately saw one lone Greenie bone hiding behind some rawhide chews.
I plucked it off the rack and handed it to her.
“Thank you so much!” she said. “You don’t happen to see any Booda Bones, too, do you?”
I looked at the rack once more, and plucked another package of bones off the wall for her.
“That’s amazing!” she exclaimed. “How do you do that?”
I shrugged. “I have an eye for it.”
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