Of all the people who should be used to my light brown eyes by now, I think my parents top the list. But no. When my father was still around, he often stared into my eyes, and remarked [to my mother]: “She’s got my eyes!” A true sentiment, by the way, so he should really be used to seeing light eyes every dang day in the mirror!
My mother doesn’t often comment on my eyes or anything else that doesn’t change. She is complimentary about my appearance when I dress up, or when I get a hair cut, or something along those lines. So I am not used to hearing her comment about my eyes. In fact, I’ve never heard her comment on my eyes. Ever. So one day, when a shaft of sunlight happened to catch me in the eye, I was surprised to hear a quick intake of breath, and: “My goodness, you have golden eyes!” [I don’t. I have brown eyes. That’s it.]
Right. Ultimately, none of this is surprising, because both my parents were appreciative of beauty albeit in different ways. My father appreciated beauty in the every day around him, like my dog. He commented almost every day on what a pretty girl she was. And I understand that about him, because I am similar. My mother is appreciative of beauty in different ways: she exclaims about new beautiful things she encounters.
But this post isn’t about my folks; it is about how people react to my eyes.
It has been a while since I’ve been on Tinder, having realised that hook ups are not my thing at all. However, almost invariably, my matches have started off with a compliment about my eyes. And funnily enough, I don’t see what the big fuss is about. I don’t understand why light eyes are considered more attractive, because I personally think dark eyes are gorgeous too. I do get that big eyes are beautiful, but thanks to the fat on my face, my eyes looked normal. [Funnily enough, my dad had enormous eyes. I think, since I have the same bone structure, mine will look larger as my face thins out more.]
My first ever boyfriend, an absolutely gorgeous specimen, used to write poetry about my brown eyes. He introduced me to ICQ, an immensely popular instant messenger of the time. As he installed it, he asked me for a nickname, and I couldn’t think of one, so he chose ‘Hazel’ because of my eyes. [I nearly died with the romance of it all, mainly because I was 14 years old at the time.] As a result, Hazel caught on as my school nickname, without many people knowing the genesis.
Then one fine day, I was in the school bus and a girl from my building remarked on my “green” eyes. Now this was new for me: green? And she proceeded to argue with me for 20 minutes because I corrected her saying that my eyes are brown, not green.
That’s right. Someone argued with ME about the colour of MY eyes.
Thanks to my mother’s exclamation, all these past incidents leapt to mind. There are several more that I’ve probably forgotten, or in the annals of my old blog. It doesn’t matter really, but I always experience a mild jolt of surprise when someone makes a comment.
Or when I see a guy’s expression change to wonder when he is looking at me, just because a ray of sunshine suddenly peeps out from behind a cloud, and lights up my face. The intensity of his gaze increases, and it makes me blush because it is quite intimate to have a guy be so captivated that he doesn’t realise he staring unwaveringly straight into your eyes.
It is something, indeed.