Color Me Red

I went to the grocery store to pick up a few things I needed for dinner.  Like some sour cream, parmesan cheese, pink peeps, and a box of raspberry filled doughnuts.  You know the necessities.  I left the store with a tube of bright red lipstick.  R-E-D, red lipstick.  BRIGHT RED LIPSTICK, you guys.  I haven’t a clue what I was thinking.

Except for I do remember what I was thinking, so forget that whole thing of me not knowing what I was thinking.  It was a lie.

I was thinking. . . oh look, bright red lipstick.  ON SALE!  A steal of a deal, too.  Maybe I should try it.

I was thinking. . . my mom wears red lipstick, and it looks good on her.  I’m my mother’s daughter so maybe it would look good on me.  Maybe.

I was thinking. . . oh, and here’s some nice subtle pink lipstick.  I think I have a tube almost that same shade at home.  Maybe I should buy another while it’s on sale.  Stock up, in the name of food storage, you know.

And then I put the red lipstick in my cart right next to the raspberry filled doughnuts.  And I grabbed two tubes of the pink lipstick because it felt like the right thing to do. 

Okay, here’s the thing.  I’ve been on a mission to find a decent shade of lipstick since my little sister told me my lips looked black.  She’s nine.  “Black lips, black lips,” she teased.  And I wouldn’t have let it get the best of me except for she made the statement at Kate’s wedding – after we’d spent the day posing for pictures.  And really the only thing worse than wearing a shade of lipstick that qualifies you for the nickname ‘black lips’ is wearing that shade of lipstick to an event where the picture evidence is sure to live on for-e-ver.

Now that I think about it, I wonder if that has become my distinguishing trait between Katie’s new in-laws.  Okay so Kim’s the sister with the black lips, right?

So, I bought the red lipstick.  Brought it home.  And put it on.  It immediately caused me to do kissing faces in the mirror.  Repeatedly.  It also caused me to do that sassy-pants hair flip thing, striking a pose after each successful flip.  And when I walked, weirdest thing, my hips swayed.  I kid you not.  I felt so trendy.  So put together.  So sassy.  And when I was finally done acting like a teenager in love I stopped with all the unnecessary movement and took a good look at myself in the mirror.

And ohmygosh.  Oh-ho.  Oh my goodness.  I looked like a ten year old who’d just experienced a successful heist that involved her mother’s make-up bag.  Only worse. 

It didn’t help that I had a dab of bright red lipstick on my teeth. . . and on my chin.  I haven’t a clue.

Anyway, the decision was unanimous.  I can pull off the red lipstick look just about as well as I can pull of the string bikini look.  As in, NOT AT ALL.

But at least now I know.