Today arrived rainy and rather dark. I decided on a black dress for church since the yellows and salmons that June usually inspires felt altogether too cheery. The other day I purchased some new lip wear. (I was born with purple lips that eventually gained the added bonus of freckles. Lipstick, therefore, is an important part of my wardrobe.) When I pulled on my black dress, I thought the new Lipstain would like a maiden voyage. Ooooh. It was a dramatic red that my husband never even acknowledged, but my five year old Fancy Nancy loved. It is always risky for a thirty-two year old mother of five to try to be anything but frumpy, but I thought it was worth a go.
After three hours of shushing children, smiling at old friends and meeting new ones, drinking from the water fountain, kissing my girls repeatedly (they were hoping to get some of the red on their lips) and the other regular duties of lips at church, I sat down in the front seat of the van. I caught a glimpse of myself in the rear-view mirror as I slipped into my seat and was horrified.
My "stain" had mostly abandoned the inner part of my lips leaving an early nineties look of red liner and pale lipstick. As if that weren't bad enough, the stain also absorbed deeply into the natural cracks and lines of my lips so that when I smiled I had stripes! Striped lips of fading red and pale purple with red lip liner! Oh, dear friends! Where were you? Couldn't one of you had told me to reapply or, at the very least, to go wash it off? I'm afraid I looked a bit like a 15 year old girl who was experimenting with make-up; the kind about whom you may say, "Where is her mother??"
At least it was church. They have to love you there.