We had a “Pamper Yourself” Enrichment night last month, where we were treated to foot massages (thank you, Julie!), manicures, and facials. The lady who taught the facial class is a successful Mary Kay rep. She had all sorts of make-up she was giving away, due to colors being discontinued, packaging redesign, and the like.
I helped myself (perhaps too generously, according to Amie) to a couple of lipsticks, a couple of eyeshadows, and an oval of blush. One shade of lipstick, Red Salsa, I took as kind of a joke.
I’m not exactly a Red Salsa kind of gal.
I put it on that night and instantly realized that red lipstick is a hard thing to pull off. (Unless, of course, you are participating in musical theatre. Then the red lipstick is essential.) One sweet lady even told me the red lips really made my eyes pop. (Is that good or bad?)
I took the lipstick home, knowing Red Salsa and I would team up on Halloween, whenever the urge to re-enact Seven Brides for Seven Brothers occurred, and other similar occasions.
Not a month later, I was shopping (without children, glory be!) and found a great dress.
Really.
Some of you might share my feelings in this–I love dresses, but I have a hard time finding something that is both modest and flattering.
This dress was both.
In the fitting room, I extended both arms above my head (essential in the life of a chorister), turned around, and bent over. I smiled (please tell me you smile when you try on clothes or I will feel like an idiot) and rested my hand on one hip. Turned the shoulder slightly.
Oh, yes, I thought. I am buying this dress. Cocked my head to one side. A chunky red necklace would look great with this.
I pulled my hair back from my face and held it there with one hand.
And lipstick.
This dress, if there ever was one, could pull off Red Salsa.
My smile grew wider. It would work.
I dressed carefully Sunday morning, adding Red Salsa the very last minute before walking out the door.
I felt very swish at church. My whole being was infused with that particular joie de vivre that one experiences when one is looking particularly well.
We sang! We danced! It was practically musical theatre.
How fitting.
In a small break, I went to the ladies’ room.
I looked in the mirror.
It really was a great dress.
Still . . . something was a bit off. I stepped closer to the mirror.
Ah ha!
I didn’t quite make it after all.
It was in the end I discovered that, though I was wearing the dress, I wasn’t as fortunate with the lipstick.
That Red Salsa lipstick was wearing me.
Perhaps I’ll try my old tube of Cherries in the Snow next time . . .
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