There are so many things I have been meaning to write about. After reading this post from The Anti-Diet Project this morning, I totally wanted to write a response but all I can really get out in an excited sputter is THIS THIS THIS:
“…when you’re used to being invisible, it’s startling to suddenly be noticed — even when that’s all you’ve ever wanted. Sometimes it feels safer to run from success.”
Thinking about my weight and body-image struggles only made my mom problems claw at my leg with chubby, macaroni-and-cheese covered hands and look up at me with sad “what about me” eyes like something…oddly familiar. Anyway, those are complicated and have redefined the time-space dimensions of what I have ever referred to as “a hard time.” This is the longest, weirdest “hard time” I have ever had–a grueling seven months of trying to find my place in the world when just being a mom wasn’t cutting it, at least not like I thought it would. I have come THIS CLOSE to starting the epic task that is putting all of this into words but it’s just too big and it’s just too heavy and
Anyway, black lipstick.
I know my best friend is going to seriously press me after I say that my absolute favorite photo shoot from ANTM was in cycle 14 (that’s right, the one with Angelea) where the girls dressed up in Victorian garb with pale eyebrows, white eyeliner, and of course black lipstick. This was the very moment the I-need-to-find-a-place-for-black-lipstick-in-my-life seed was planted. And that is, indeed, the trouble with black lipstick aside from it being a bitch to put on and maintain. Where does it fit in the life of a wife and mother pushing 30?
Seriously. Black lipstick is the boldest of bolds. It is the statement of all statements ESPECIALLY if you aren’t an aging goth or a 17-year-old kiwi pop star. As much as I love Lorde, I definitely don’t want those “that bitch is tryna be Lorde” looks.
But fashion experiments like these, if nothing else, are a helpful reminder that no one’s really looking at you, you crazy narcissist. Seriously, no one cares. I literally just went out for giant sandwiches with an old friend wearing layers of black lipstick that just ended up on my chin, nails, and the damn sandwich and there was not a fuck to be given in the entire place.
So the answer to the “too old” question is a real obvious “uh, no” only because who cares? Even though I certainly have those “lady, you are too old for that haircut” thoughts, they ARE just thoughts. And you might not be able to help thinking I look RIDICULOUS in this lipstick but damn it I just can’t fight this feeling anymooooooooooooore. I gotta rock it. Maybe not during my next sandwich run but ya know. Lessons learned.
Another lesson, this is I how I like to wear it best–bright clothes, bronzer, metallic eyeliner, no shadow. And yes, I took a mirror outside to take these pictures because my house has terrible lighting.
And I’ll close this post with a picture of my baby being a model.
