Adventures in Life-Changing Lipstick
or, we are always in the process of becoming.
I used to write about lipstick.
To be fair, I’ve written about a lot of things over the course of my career, but lipstick was a big one. Aside from sheer gratitude to get to write about anything for money, I always felt torn over this. On the one hand, I did enjoy it (both the lipstick and the writing). But I didn’t want to contribute to the larger voice that peddles items as solutions.
Trust me when I tell you that lipstick will not grant you a new identity, a better credit score, less anxiety, more courage. (I know from experience.) This is true even if the name of the shade is something like “Lady Danger” or “Fearless” or “Never Says Regrettable Shit at Parties.”
There is a feeling that lurks in the rearview mirror and stirs whenever I encounter old pieces of writing, forgotten text messages, the assorted detritus of former incarnations. It goes something like this:
It was never a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth.
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A friend recently got a manicure. This is truly a nonevent, significant only in that said friend is a never-gets-a-manicure, short-clean-nails type of person. When I met her for coffee, her fingertips were long and lacquered, filed to sharp points, like a glamorous Nosferatu.
“It’s like I’ve been going through life as a different person,” she laughed. “I feel like a badass opening doors. Every time I type something, it’s…” she paused, searching for the right word, “spicier.”