I keep trying to wear the red lipstick, y’all.
It’s a daily battle. Some days, I have to go to something outside, with real clothes on (always a bonus, actual clothes) and the Red Lipstick beckons.
“Come on…” it purrs. “You know you wanna.”
It’s a slippery slope, the red lipstick.
Actually, it IS slippery and that’s the whole problem. Because, ultimately, as I stare t myself in the mirror, my M.A.C. Brave Red all loaded up and ready, I sigh and think, “I dunno. Do I feel lucky?”
Because, as sexy as Brave Red sounds, it comes down to this:
I HAVE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO DRAW WITHIN THE LINES.
And so, inevitably, I end up looking like Courtney Love. And with Courtney? It’s ok. It’s her thing. It’s kinda part of the package. Me? Not so much. Courtney Love, with smeary lipstick and mascara in a ripped slip dress just does NOT go pick up her kids at school and then take ’em to the park. Nope.
Well, maybe she does. I dunno. I never really asked her. But, if I was a betting woman, and let’s face it, I totally am because I still hollar “Watch your AIM!” when my boys head to the bathroom and hope I get lucky…
Anyhow, IF I was a betting woman, I am thinking Courtney Love is not all about playdates and packing lunches, and, you know, being dull.
I can’t get the lipstick to stay put. The other day, I had encountered at least three people in which actual real and lengthy conversations had happened and my lipstick had done this:
Now, to be clear, this is not me. This is a model. She is standing in for me, a sort of body double, if you will. The poor dear can’t see a thing and that has got to be annoying.
My lipstick, y’all. It had traveled.
At some point in the morning I had decided to go all Brave Red all over my face. And chin. I looked like a Kool-Aided toddler.
(Also, I did not look a thing like Miss Skinny Asymmetrical as above but she’s there for dramatic effect.)
My love for red lipstick really took off about a year ago when I woke up one morning and found out I was old. Red lipstick helped, my friends. It understood. It made me feel, well, a bit sassy.
I think Richard Simmons when I think ‘sassy.’ And in this case, I am totally fine with that.
And, I told you that story to tell you this: the other morning I was walking my dog, and praying. I had passed my boys’ elementary school and was praying over it, the teachers, the kids, the kids who don’t know Jesus, the one that eats his buggers and taught my sweet, angelic, innocent little Red what a “weiner is” beside something you put in a bun and eat with ketchup. That kid got a whole block’s worth of prayer. I prayed over the deadly merry-go-round as I passed their recess area. I walked the perimeter, and I prayed.
And as I walked past the front of the building I realized I might look a little crazy. I was holding one hand toward the school, muttering as I walked, looking kinda, well, weird. Like, just plain crazy lady weird or crazy Christian lady weird. Either way, weird.
I stuffed my hand in my pocket and immediately stopped praying. But at that moment I was walking past the cafeteria, and for Pete’s sake those poor lunch ladies need PRAYER. It’s like the Thunderdome in there.
And here is how I pull this weird post all together and make you applaud my writing prowess:
Faith. It’s the Red Lipstick.
Put it on. Every morning. Head out with it. Don’t be shy.
The weird lady with the frenetic little dog will continue walking around your little elementary every Tuesday morning. I don’t CARE. We need prayer. Those kids in that school are all broken up and the teachers have to put them back together every day, and my God, I will pray. I will stay put.
And I purchase get a lipstick that does the same.
Betcha didn’t think I could tie ’em together, lipstick and faith? Well, neither did I. This post was just going to be about red lipstick and wrinkles, y’all. I didn’t really see the prayer thing coming. I am just so very spiritual.