Lip service

I don’t wear lipstick. I can’t stand most lipsticks I’ve tried, mostly for the taste and the dry paint feeling. But, since last Saturday was such a special occasion – my little brother’s wedding – I figured I’d better invest in some. I didn’t think lip gloss was up to the challenge of the gazillion pictures bridesmaids pose for on wedding days.

So Thursday after my doctor’s appointment, I scooted over to the Clinique counter at the mall. I would normally just get something at Walmart, but I needed someone to pick me out a color a high-quality product.

I don’t wear lipstick, so I’m not accustomed to buying it, either.

I described the dress color to the Clinique lady, and she proceeded to pull lipstick tubes from one of those sample boards. And I, not EVEN thinking, picked up the first tube and smeared it all over my lips. I then noticed her rubbing each tube on her hand to test the color. Of course, it didn’t occur to me to do that. For some reason, rubbing countless hand germs on my mouth seemed like such a better idea.

At that point, I started rubbing lipstick on the back of my hand, too, hoping she didn’t notice my goof or the sparkly new shade on my face that simply was not there before.

I ended up buying that very color – waterviolet. It looked really good on the tissue I vigorously rubbed it on immediately after walking away from the counter.

And that was just one brain lapse for the day. A couple of hours later, I arrived home to remember that I left my car in Dothan. But that’s another story.