I seldom wear make up. My day job is such that I can’t be bothered with it. Better still to just be clean and neat. I find that make up ruins my focus on what I’m doing. It smudges, smears and I simply can’t be bothered.
But there’s no denying it’s beautiful. So, then I thought: smudge-proff lipstick.
Well, I went shopping and found a ‘cosmetic expert’ with perfect smoky eyes and lipstick to match, who promptly started to warn me away from my idea. “This lipstick will stay for 8 hours but you don’t really want…”
Images of J.Lo were swimming in my brain. Perfect lips, glossy and beautiful. I wanted them.
“I do want it,” I corrected her. “But I want the kind of lipstick that stays on for good. The type that if it’s WWIII and I’ve been bombed to death and my body is ashes, there’s lipstick on them.”
Those smokey eyes opened wide and she looked a little uncertain. Finally, smelling a sale, she pulled one from the shelf. “There is this one. It’s actually one that bonds with the surface of your lips. It will stay on forever but I feel obliged to warn you that…”
But the images in my head were louder than she was. “Thank you.” I took the lipstick, found a shade I liked and bought it. Delighted, I ran to my car and, before I even left the parking lot, put two coats on.
Sure enough. I could feel the bonding agents already at work. My lips felt definitely peeked and…somehow better.
Not one to let an opportunity pass me by, I put on two more coats, then added a lip gloss.
When I stared at the result in the small car mirror on the visor, I gasped. I was almost unrecognizable. My lips appeared to have swollen up and were taking up almost all of the room in my face. They were incredible, massive and so shiny they could be used to signal to mars. I stared in awe and thought: J. Lo move aside. I’m beautiful! Gorgeous! I have to go show this off!
But where could I go at 1 pm on a Saturday? I went to the local grocery store.
I walked up and down the fruit stands throwing out a hip as I walked, posing sexily with the tomatoes and pouting my lips until every shopper around got a good look. When people were too busy, I coughed, got their attention and pursed my mouth again.
And they stared at me. They stared at me with something like fascination. Then, they pointed and whispered to each other. I smiled at their reaction in benign agreement. I knew I was beautiful. I had seen it for myself.
I think I ended up buying an apple. I don’t remember. What I do recall is the stare of the cashier. She had a fixed, slightly terrified look. Plus she stayed at least two metres away from me the entire time it took for me to pay.
I hurried back to my car to check on my incredible invention…and saw that the lipstick had run down my chin, down my neck and collected around my t-shirt. Since, it was red, it looked very much like blood…falling down my neck. I looked like some sort of vampire that had just finished lunch.
No wonder they stared. They were probably wondering what disease I had and if it was catchy.
To this day I have no idea how on earth I couldn’t feel that lipstick sliding down my neck. The ‘cosmetic expert’ didn’t either. In her defence, she had been trying to warn me not to mix the lipstick. I just hadn’t listened.
Call me silly but I haven’t used lipstick since.