The day I decided to purchase that #305 HOT bright red Cover Girl lipstick from Ulta, I knew my life would change. I had just gotten my hair cut: I had bangs, spent a winter in London and I was a whole new girl/woman/female. At first, I shyly applied a thin layer and dabbed it with tissues until anyone could barely notice I had even attempted to make myself look pretty. Subtlety is kind of my thing.
I thought my purchase would make my college boyfriend of a year and a half like me even more. I mean how can any man resist luscious red lips? My hopes were that he would immediately want to make out with me and eventually he would never stop loving me.
Unfortunately, my lipstick use started becoming more liberal. The spring semester of junior year was winding down and the weather was warming up. I was ready to make a statement, considering I was about to be a senior. I applied that damn lipstick at least three times before leaving my apartment, and I made sure to reapply constantly. Literally, it became a part of me. People started referring to my red lipstick as a whole new phase of my life, and I became unstoppable. Well, in my head at least.
I didn’t accept it really until now, but the rise of my lipstick use triggered the downfall of my relationship. I became so wrapped up in keeping my lips looking dazzling that I failed to realize my boyfriend no longer was interested in my life. While I was busy stressing out about unlikely internships and my ENTIRE FUTURE, I must have not realized that the boy who I was completely in love with no longer wanted to spend time with me. I chose the path of denial, and I continued to apply lipstick in hopes he would want me.
Now at this point, finals were finishing up, and the gang was ready to pack up and head to Tennessee for Bonnaroo. We planned it for months. By this time, I had gone through most of my $5 lipstick, and I occasionally was guilty of getting it all over my teeth. However, the heat and dust at Bonnaroo were not great conditions for my cheap makeup. I did try to apply the lipstick so I would stand out in a crowd a little more, or leave my mark if necessary (though not completely sure where or why). After becoming covered in dirt and embracing a life of no showers, I realized I did not need my tube of power. I left it on a table in Tennessee thinking I would not regret my decision.
Of course it is time for the obvious plot twist and transition. After finishing up Bonnaroo and enjoying a Beirut set with my boyfriend, I thought everything was back to normal. After hearing Zach Condon’s angelic voice and imagining a honeymoon-esque vacation off the coast of France, I thought my summer would be the best of all time. I was free of my commitment to stand out or woe my boyfriend with my enhanced lips, and I was prepared to except a life of chapped, pinkish lips. I could own the summer of 2011 and I would not even have to try. And then I got the text.
“Things have been off and we should talk about it.”
REALLY? YOU THINK? I thought everything was just fine. I frantically searched my duffel bag for a few quick and easy makeup items. I then remembered, I no longer had my lipstick, my true companion. I abandoned the Cover Girl tool down South somewhere in a scene right out of the Great Depression. So we talked. He didn’t look at my lips. In fact, he couldn’t look at my face. He was done with me because he thought time was working against him. He thought I was getting old. He thought he was maturing. Any way you look at it, I felt he was wrong. I told him to leave me at the park across from where I attended preschool 19 years ago. I sat in the dirt on the abandoned baseball field and I cried uncontrollably. I saw him drive away and realized he wasn’t turning around. I then knew what it was like to be left alone in the dirt, as I had left my lipstick a few days back. Karma had set in, and I was being punished for my small decision to neglect a small piece of my life.
I hate to say that I blame my decision to purchase that #305 lipstick for causing the end of my relationship. But I have to blame something.
