I love a good face. and by ‘good face‘, I mean face paint, makeup, the stuff that transforms a before into an ah’mazing after. seems every little girl or boy who ultimately becomes transfixed by glosses, shadows and rouge (because blush just sounds so run-of-the-mill), made the realization at a very early age.
I remember being around 6 or so, rummaging through my mother’s makeup bag, when my tiny hands met a shiny tube of red lip gloss. suddenly. every. thing. stopped. I was bewildered and amused upon finding my favorite crayon shade had morphed into something glossy, and quickly ran it sans technique across what should’ve been my lips, though a lot of it landed outside of the target. didn’t matter. I felt pretty and like smiling, so I found my mother and did just that. she laughed, which meant I would avoid punishment for snooping through her makeup bag. she insisted my father snap a picture of my tragically applied gloss mishap. I hope that picture never sees the light of day. but that’s where it started, my thing with makeup. I’ve always loved it even though I’ve never really gone overboard with it. it’s still my steady.
after my childhood dalliance with mom’s red gloss, I quickly developed a slightly disturbing affinity for kissing potions. ‘member them? oh man, those strawberry scented slippery rollerballs of clear glossy goodness had me hooked! for real. I went through tubes like crack. my mother refused to keep supplying my addiction and I wasn’t old enough to get a job so I had no choice but to quit cold turkey. could be genetic because my sister’s been seriously absorbing cherry lip smackers since before I can remember. she doesn’t like to talk about it; but it’s pretty deep. she even ate a tube or two at some point during her Pre-K years. maybe that’s where HER thing with makeup started.
we all have a story.
I wonder when Pat’s story began. when did she first discover her love affair with powder and paint and all the goods that make a girl what she ain’t.