Wanderings through life, landscapes, and occasional loopiness. So pull up a log and have a bit of a sit-down ’round the virtual campfire.

Making Up Is Hard To Do

All right, I admit it. I know nothing about makeup. Okay, revise that. I know the premises behind it. After all, I was in drama club in high school and that’s where I learned about that kind of thing. But I seem to be lacking the makeup gene. Didn’t get it. Never missed it. Don’t understand it. Whatever. Other people have it, and that’s just fine.

At any rate, since it hasn’t really occurred to me to use makeup on a regular basis (read: outside drama club or Halloween), it didn’t become part of my worldview. And honestly, I don’t find makeup all that appealing either on me (though I’m sure others would argue that) or the people in my life. I’m more an “au natural” and organic product kinda gal. I’ve never been much for kissing people who wear lipstick or all that foundation-powder-blush hoo-ha. It’s kinda messy, especially if things get a little…heated. C’mon. You know what I mean. Plus, the other person might have to go and “fix” that makeup because it got kinda messy and…well, heated.

So because I don’t necessarily think about these things and because I don’t necessarily stop and linger at the makeup counters (insert your brand here) when I’m walking through department stores, I don’t really think about the money that goes into these products. Not just making them and developing them. No, I’m talking about what consumers pay for them.

Well, slap my ass and call me Coco. My eyes have been opened. Wide. My partner’s mom gave her some lip protector from a particular brand of makeup and because my partner, too, tends to be more on the au natural side, she had no need for this product (and that’s a whole other story, about family and whether they really know you or not). So she took the unopened lip protector back to the department store for credit. I’m thinking, well, how much could it possibly cost? Maybe five bucks, right? Eight at the most.

Ah, ignorance. We know ye well.

Twenty. Twenty dollars for a lipstick-sized tube of this stuff. Those of you who use makeup or are with people who do, please. Laugh. At my expense. You’ve earned it and I fully acknowledge my winsome naïveté. So after my partner had peeled me off the floor (and after she herself had almost stopped laughing at the look of utter horror on my face), I could only stammer: “holy shit. How do femmes and straight women afford this?” And adding insult to injury, you also have to purchase the products that take it off when you’re done wearing it all day. And because I’m an equal opportunity kinda gal, I stage-whispered: “How can drag queens afford this? Good god!” And “It’s so expensive to be goth!” The woman behind the counter’s lips twitched in what might have been an attempt at a smile, but her particular brand of lipstick seemed to prevent a full grin. Instead, she just kind of nodded at me, like the secrets of the universe had suddenly been revealed and I, poor soul that I am, was now privy to a secret club of sorts: “People who get how expensive makeup is and suddenly understand the WORK that goes into being a woman/goth/queen/rocker person/insert other label here.”

Ever helpful, my partner provided me a list of makeup products from a catalogue with prices included. My brain glazed over and I suddenly understood why women who wear makeup (and guys, too, if you’re in that category) get so upset if they lose, say, lipstick or a container of foundation. Because that stuff is freakin’ expensive and might actually require something like a second job or mortgage to pay for it.

And I thought about this and pondered the dilemmas that makeup might present and I came to this conclusion. What we need, maybe, is a gripe group. So, my sisters and brothers of the blush, what about an organization where you can air your concerns? Perhaps act on them? Maybe something with a cool name (that would look good on a t-shirt, of course, coordinated with your spring or fall tones). Maybe something like the Makeup Liberation Front, or MaLF (as opposed to MILF, which is…um…an entirely different kind of thing). It could be a cross between a support group and a virtual coffee klatch with a sprinkling of direct action (sort of like that powder stuff that you brush over foundation). And it could have a totally bad-ass logo like crossed bandoliers with lipsticks jammed into the ammo loops, plastered on t-shirts, purses, cute little scarves and jackets…totally. Different lines, depending on your mood. I’m leaning toward the goth line, myself. Anyway. People! Let’s think about this! Some day, MaLF! Available at your nearest…uh…makeup counter.

Thanks for stopping by and joining me in my ruminations. It gets lonely in the freakzone of my head. OH, I’ll be adding some more linky-dinkies over there to the right (I might change the template here. This one has decided to stop speaking to me). Also, if you’d like to read an excerpt from my forthcoming novel, it’s available on my website on my “Stories & Excerpts” page. Click here and scroll down to “Land of Entrapment.”

Whew. Check your rouge and

keep it real, yo.

Making Up Is Hard To Do

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