9.25.2013

Icing on a Cake


I love lipstick.  I used to hate it.  I didn't like the way it felt, and I always felt so self conscious in it that I would smear it all off [and all over my face] out of nervousness.  Somehow my attitude changed about that.  

I think it started when I did a show in college that took place in the 1930s.  Our director tried to instill in us how put together and classy these women were.  No woman ever left the house without her gloves, hat and a coat of some bright red lipstick.  Along the same lines, we had to attend every rehearsal wearing a knee length skirt, panty hose and the same cherry red loved by women of years past.  There was something so sacred and ritualistic about all us girls standing in front of the mirrored walls, applying our lipstick in a perfect cupid's bow and gabbing [sometimes crying] about life happenings in between each swipe.  I dislocated my hip during that show and while I was gimping along my normal life routine kind of went by the wayside, but I always wore my lipstick.  I even started wearing it to class during the day.  I looked a mess [I wasn't able to shave my legs for four weeks...], but I never actually felt icky because of my red lipstick.  

Now, I can't leave the house [even sometimes I can't be in my house] without something on my lips.  Even if it's just a tinted lip balm [Burt's Bees for the win!].  I still like red, but it's by no means my favorite.  Lipstick and coffee are my two morning rituals that make me feel ready to conquer anything and everything.

I know lipstick isn't really all that common anymore, but I still hope and wish for the day when women hanging around the bathroom smearing on lipstick becomes the norm again.  It may seem a bit superfluous, but there's just something about that extra kick that really makes you feel equipped to handle the worst.



From left, clockwise: 1--2--3--4

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