It was at the end of the summer in my late teens when rebellion burst out from the ranks of the cousins in a surprising form. I decided that I would go against Aunt Fern's very strict rules on "No Makeup" and start wearing it anyway. I was wearing it when away from the farm, while at home, under the eagle eye of watchful parents, so it seemed ridiculous not to be allowed to while I was away for the summer.
One evening, after Cousin Scarlet and I had liberated one of Uncle Bob's bottles of Hooch (by then, he was fairly wise to the way's of his nieces and was getting in extra for our visits) we four girls decided that the rules were there to be bent.
I dragged my makeup bag from where it had been languishing. Soon after that, we had foundation, eye shadow, mascara and best of all, lipsticks pooled on the floor. It was an orgy of would-be makeup artists! However, it was that night I discovered I adore lipstick. There is nothing more erotic, exotic, than a woman's mouth.
At last count I have a collection of twenty-five lipsticks, all in current use. This is after regular throwing out of old, past prime-of-life lipsticks.
Of course, Aunt Fern had kittens when she saw us. The make up was banished to her locked warbrobe until it was time for us to go home again. But my adoration of lipstick, as phallic as it is, has withstood the test of time.
No comments:
Post a Comment