With a practiced elegance, my mother would unscrew the cap of her radiant gold lipstick tube, revealing a perfectly shaped, creamy orange stick. Leaning over the bathroom sink, she would glide it across her top lip, then the bottom, effortlessly painting a bold stroke of color that transformed her. After a few gentle rubs of her lips together and a delicate blot on a tissue, she’d leave behind a glamorous lip-stamped “O.”
As a young girl, I was captivated watching Mom apply her Estee Lauder, Lancome, or Chanel lipstick. She wasn’t tied to a specific brand; it was all about the shade—a bright, attention-grabbing orangey-red that became her signature. To this day, I can’t recall a moment when she didn’t wear it.
She wore it everywhere: to the gym, while grocery shopping, during book club meetings, and bridge games. It adorned her lips when she volunteered for Meals on Wheels, bringing me along as a child for deliveries, and when she brought meals to a family dealing with cancer. Even while pursuing a degree in interior design, she’d smile at the homeless man who offered to wash her windshield, always with that lipstick in place. From funerals to weddings and even Grandparents’ Day at my daughters’ school, her lipstick was a constant.
Growing up, I eagerly anticipated the day I could wear lipstick like her. Yet, during middle school, the trend was all about sticky lip gloss. It wasn’t until my late teens that I finally approached the Clinique counter, trying on vibrant oranges and reds. “I think you’d look better in pink,” the saleswoman suggested. Ignoring her advice, I settled on a shimmery papaya shade that rarely saw the light of day. My thin upper lip and uneven pout made lipstick feel unnecessary, and I often questioned why my mother wore it daily.
In my 20s, I turned my nose up at her commitment to lipstick. Who puts on makeup for a workout? Why should I care about my appearance while shopping for groceries? My work should speak for itself, I thought.
However, when my first daughter arrived, everything changed. The early weeks were a blur of stress and sleepless nights. Breastfeeding was challenging, and my baby lost weight too quickly. I was exhausted, staring at a reflection of raccoon eyes and chapped lips in the mirror.
One morning, I rummaged through my bathroom drawers and found Ruby Slipper, the deep pink I wore on my wedding day. I smoothed it across my lips and blotted. I still looked tired, but that touch of color offered a glimmer of strength. Suddenly, I felt a small shift: I was present.
For the first time, I understood my mother’s daily lipstick routine. Life is about showing up, and for her, applying lipstick was a way to embrace each moment, whether folding laundry or comforting a loved one facing the end.
Now, after 12 years of daily lipstick wear, I’ve embraced this ritual. Whenever my mom suggests I add a little color before we head out—be it for a casual lunch or school pickup—I pull out my trusty tube and apply it with purpose.
This journey has shown me that small acts, like putting on lipstick, can signify our commitment to being present. If you’re interested in further exploring ways to enhance your journey into motherhood, consider checking out this fertility booster for men or learn more about the process through this excellent resource. And if you’re looking for an at-home option, the impregnator at home insemination kit is a great place to start.
In summary, my mother’s daily lipstick ritual taught me that the small things matter. It’s not just about the color; it’s about showing up for ourselves and others, no matter the occasion.
Keyphrase: Lipstick and Life Lessons
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