First, I’m not bi-polar, I’m just complicated. Expect the blog to reflect as such while I deal with the whole beloved dog + incurable cancer = basket case equation. Your kind comments really blow me away, and I thank you. The forecast is for a stiff upper lip with periodic bouts of silliness.
Speaking of lips, I have a complex about mine
I blame two three people for this. First, the “makeup artist” at the Dillard’s Estee Lauder counter in Abilene, Texas who told me “your lips are so unusual. The top one is a little bigger than the bottom one.”
First of all, lady, you were a working at the Dillard’s in Abilene. I’m really not sure why I gave you this mantle of cosmetic authority, being that the Abilene Dillard’s is not, in retrospect, the mecca for budding makeup artists. No offense to Abilene, a lovely city where I was in fact, in the Junior League.
I know, y’all. Let that sink in.
However, makeup lady, because of your amazed pronouncement about my freakishly malformed lips, I have spent decades lining my lower lip just outside the lip line and putting a dab of shiny gloss right in the middle to trick the eye. Thank you very much.
Also in college, a classmate who is now an esteemed and respected professor at my Alma Mater, but who then went by the alias “Vick Velvet,” asked my fiance “what’s it like kissing those little chicken lips?” Ever since, I have been searching for the perfect lip-plumping lip gloss because I was scarred for life. The pain has outlasted the student loans, even.
By the way, Mr. Velvet. My Dyson doesn’t have Angelina Jolie lips either. But it works just fine.
Now, I said three people were responsible for my lip paranoia. Person three would be my husband, who was then the fiance who was clueless enough to tell me about the chicken lips comment. But guess what? He is not reading this paragraph. Because he died when he read the vacuum sentence.
His last words were “I can’t believe you went there on the interne…”
Now that you understand the deep psychological scarring, you’ll understand why I eagerly try each and every brand of lip plumper I can get my hands on. Sure, I could go the collagen route. But needles in the mouth? No. Thank. You.
This weekend, I found myself in Ulta, admiring their two-for-one sale that included the Ultimate Pout Lip Plumper. And of course, admiring = buying.
And because I like to share, I will utilize my sparkly new camera/fancy tripod/wrinkly pillowcase product showcase set up and show the pretty lip glosses to you.
See? So pretty. I tried the paler one called “Glisten.” Which is appropriate, because that is what my eyes started doing about 15 seconds in as the “plumping action” started working. Then I tried to rub it off my mouth and got some in a paper cut on my index finger, and then someone called 9-1-1 thinking a wallaby was being waterboarded in our bathroom.
However, I lived, and would like to report that the gloss sure does plump.
I know it’s a recession, though, and the Ultimate Pout Lip Plumper is $12.50. So I am now going to offer you 5 cheaper ways to get the same searing effect and sexy pout.
1) Go to the zoo and french kiss an anteater.
2) Sit on the third base line and get hit in the mouth by a foul ball.
3) Stick your mouth into a nest of angry bees.
4) Suck off a habanero pepper.
5) Leave a comment and a valid email, and maybe you will win the other unopened lip gloss, a pretty coral shade called “Bella.” Because I know times are tough, and I care. Also, I am not putting that stuff on my mouth again.
I would send you the “Glisten,” tube too, but it has wallaby spit on it and there are interstate regulations about that.
For real, I will send the unopened lip gloss to a commenter chosen at random by putting the comment numbers in a hat or something and making my kids draw. If you want it, be sure to leave a real email so I can get your address. Also, get some therapy — because seriously, that stuff HURTS. I’ll draw on Friday.