Not a big fan of the V-Day.
I don't hate it.
I just think there are
herds and herds
of people
who dread the day
because they're alone.
There is nothing wrong with being alone.
In fact, there is a whole lot of right
in being alone
but it would seem we are obsessed
with the accoutrements of
togetherness
with the implied snapshot
of aloneness
as one
less-fulfilling.
I'm not opposed to either.
I've been alone.
I've been together.
Both made me happy
and crazy
and confused
and content
and restless.
Both have left me
on different days
spreading my wings
and cowering in my cocoon
crying
and laughing
and considering
and tearing out my hair a bit.
Life is like that.
Love is like that.
Whether you're with someone.
Or just walking through life as a person alone.
Anyway.
All of the red and the pink and the rosy-ness
of the celebration
of this (frigid, winters, I might add...) day
led me to pull out one of the
many tubes of Avon lipstick
purchased and tucked away
by my mom.
She died about a year ago.
She was a young mom
in the 50's
when a crisply pressed apron
and a swipe of
fresh lip color
was all one needed
to feel
great
and ready to face the day.
Lipstick?
Moi???
I hardly ever touch the stuff.
Right color? Wrong color?
Too dark?
Too shiny?
Do I have to sparkle?
I just never ever can seem to figure it out.
But what the heck.
I dove into mom's unopened tubes yesterday
and picked one that seemed like it
might be right.
I've been stuck inside for a long while
it's winter
and it's cold
and the wind is howling a bit
and honest
I just needed some kind of
distracting pick-me-up
to get through the day.
I dunno.
I suppose to give it a fair shot
it should have been accompanied by
a haircut
or at least washing
since I'm still hanging out in my
post-op jammies most days.
But....maybe, mom.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Happy Valentines Day.
Brought to you by
Target and Walgreens and Hallmark
and those demon candy people, too.
And one tube of slightly pink
slightly 50's
Avon lipstick.
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