Jumbo camo Bow Tie o’ the Day and I spent part of the day erranding—with lots of pauses in our mission. I’m always aware it can come to pass: when I’m wearing a wordy t-shirt, sometimes people politely stop me in my tracks so they can read the whole thing. I don’t mind it when it happens, but it’s never happened to me so many times in a single outing before. Beginning with one of my pharmacists at Dick’s Market, I was stopped in my tracks 6 different times at various and sundry businesses, just so inquisitive folks could read every word of my shirt. It was taking me an inordinate amount of time to accomplish my tasks, so I finally retreated to the car with my half-done list, and I drove straight home. I had a bigly smile on my face. Right here in Mormonville —er, Centerville—where I was erranding, the responses to the shirt’s sentiments tallied up to be 6-out-of-6 thumbs-up. I am pleased to report that there were no dissenting opinions. Human decency wins again. 🏆
I could not let this FB memory with me wearing makeup be forgotten. I’m fairly confident ain’t nobody gonna see the likes of this again. In case you haven’t noticed, I am not—nor have I ever been—a wearer o’ makeup. For me, it was a conscious decision I made decades ago for my own personal philosophical reasons. I cast no judgment on those who choose to wear makeup, but as far as I’m concerned, my unpainted face has a right to exist in the world. Nobody’s face needs to be altered in order for it to be considered presentable to the masses. I have some important true news for y’all: in case you don’t know it already, your naked face is perfectly worthy of being seen. Your naked face is enough. You and your face—just as you are—are enough. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.
The following is a post from August 2018. Jump right into it.
SUZANNE PERFORMS A MIRACLE
OMGolly! Last evening, Bow Tie o’ the Day pinned me down, and Suzanne opened up every makeup bag she owns. I mean—I was simply reclining away in the loveseat, watching LIVE PD. Suddenly, a foundation brush was headed my way. And then eyeliner went everywhere except where it was supposed to go, cuz I couldn’t quit blinking when Suzanne was applying it. I kid you not: she had to wipe it off and apply it a second time. And then it felt like the mascara applicator was gonna poke my eyes out every time it got near my eyeballs. Suzanne asked me when I last applied mascara to my lashes. To the best of my recollection, the answer is 7th Grade—and once was enough. I must admit that last night I did enjoy the application o’ the eye shadow. It felt dreamy.
The lipstick is so me, the way its color pops out. You know how I like a dash of bright color. Suzanne told me her philosophy about wearing lipstick has changed over the years. She used to wear calm, subdued colors, but now she thinks if you’re gonna wear lipstick, people ought to really, really, really see it. See what happened there? My loud style has rubbed off on her lips a little bit.
BTW Do you know what most weirded me out about this whole makeup ambush? All evening long, there was lipstick on the rims of my Diet Coke cans. I kept wondering: who is this mysterious woman who keeps drinking my Diet Coke?
