She removes the cap from the shimmering gold tube and twists the base until a smooth, orange-tinted cylinder emerges. Leaning over the sink, she deftly glides the lipstick across her top lip, then the bottom, moving side to side with precision. Stepping back, she rubs her lips together and delicately blots them on a tissue, leaving behind a striking lipsticked mark.
As a young girl, I watched my mother transform before my eyes, applying products from various luxury brands like Estee Lauder, Lancome, Chanel, or Yves Saint Laurent. She never confined herself to a single label; her focus was always on the color—a bold, eye-catching orange-red that she wore daily without fail.
My mother wore lipstick everywhere: to the gym, grocery shopping, book club meetings, and even while volunteering for Meals on Wheels. I remember accompanying her as a child on those deliveries, where she donned her signature shade while bringing meals to her ailing cousin and his family. She wore it during her pursuit of a degree in interior design, always smiling at the homeless man who offered to wash her windshield as she exited the highway. She wore it to both joyous weddings and somber funerals, while hosting dignitaries and attending Grandparents’ Day at my daughters’ school.
Growing up, I longed to wear lipstick just like her, but during my middle school years, it was all about sticky lip gloss for me and my peers. It wasn’t until my late teens that I ventured to the Clinique counter, experimenting with various shades of orange and red. “You’re more of a pink,” the sales associate remarked, but I disregarded her advice and purchased a shimmering shade of papaya, which I rarely wore. Lipstick appeared ill-fitting on my thin upper lip and uneven pout. I questioned why my mother wore it every day, regardless of the occasion.
In my twenties, I often scoffed at her habit, believing it unnecessary to wear makeup to the gym or while grocery shopping. I thought it absurd to “put on a face” for colleagues when my work should speak for itself.
However, everything changed when I stepped into the role of a new mother. The first few weeks with my daughter were fraught with anxiety and exhaustion. Breastfeeding was a struggle, and my baby lost weight too quickly. My dreams of sleepy days filled with lullabies were replaced by sleepless nights filled with cries. Each morning, I awoke more fatigued, my reflection revealing raccoon eyes and dry, pale lips.
In desperation, I searched through my bathroom drawers and found Ruby Slipper, the deep pink lipstick I wore on my wedding day. I applied it quickly, and while I still appeared weary, that touch of color grounded me, marking a subtle shift: I am present.
As a new mother, I realized the importance of showing up—not just for myself, but for my daughter as well. My mother’s daily lipstick ritual began to resonate with me. Life often requires us to show up, and for her, wearing lipstick was a way of doing just that—whether it was folding laundry, studying, or providing comfort to those in need.
For the past twelve years, I have made lipstick a part of my daily routine. When my mother suggests I apply some before we head out, whether for lunch or school pickups, I always reach for that tube and pucker up. This practice is more than just cosmetic; it’s a statement of presence and resilience.
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In summary, the act of applying lipstick transcends mere aesthetics; it embodies the essence of commitment, presence, and the courage to show up each day, no matter the challenges we face.
Keyphrase: The significance of wearing lipstick
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