I’m keeping these WHY?

Nope.  Wipe… How ’bout this one?  Nope.  Wipe…  Wait, wait, wait…  this one’ll be the one… NOPE.  Scrub.  Wiiiiiiiiiiiipe.  Why do I even have these?!?

Lipsticks.  How many should a gal have?  You know… in the drawer of your vanity, or bottom of your make up kit.  12? 22?  116?  I have an entire drawer of lipsticks that are impossible to wear. Wait.  I’ll try to look at this as a positive.   I would be able to sport some of them if I wore heavy makeup and dressed as a drag queen or a geisha.  Note to self: train for a new career.

And yet, instead of throwing them out, I still have them stashed away, like some secret cache of diamonds, some dating back to 1996.  I have this amazing Estee Lauder lipstick that gives off an odd odour, but I’m unwilling to part with it.  What’s the shelf life for lipstick?  If, say, I was on a archaelogical dig and found some lipstick (in the perfect shade) in an Egyptian tomb, could I apply it or would I be slowly poisoning myself to death if it became my favourite colour? 

Every time is the same.  I carefully draw on the lip liner – apply the colour to my lips and then jump back from the mirror in horror.  I’m not wearing enough eye liner for this colour.  My skin isn’t orange enough for this colour.  I wasn’t going for a Goth look, but what the hell…  “Hey David!  How do I get a casting call for Vampire Diaries?!?”  Then the toilet paper comes out.  I pour liberal amounts of makeup remover on the TP and attempt to remove the horrific shade.  Invariably, I end up looking like a clown who’s gone on a bender and then have to reapply all makeup from the nose down.

What it comes down to, is that I don’t want to give it up the control. You know… my colour-choosing free will, where as an adult woman in her 40s I should know by now what works and what doesn’t.  Although considering that I’ve been  sucking at it royally for the last three decades, maybe it’s time to go to Shoppers and sit down in the chair with the Cosmetics Dept person and let them go to town.  Have a good ol’ Apply and Wipe session there so
that when I want to go out in public I don’t have to waste precious
time figuring out that I don’t actually own a shade of red that looks
good on me.  All I want is to achieve 1940s starlet without
the harlot, that shouldn’t be so hard.    And yet I feel I need to gather a group of like-minded individuals, mount up on steeds and ride the world to seek out the Holy Lipstick.

The perfect red lipstick.  Like the magical travelling pants… but in lipstick and you don’t put it on your ass.  (Unless you’re into that, and more power to you, if that’s your kink.)