I want to write about something I saw on Twitter yesterday that kind of pissed me off.
One of my favorite makeup brands (ok, to be honest, it's the brand that I work for) wrote about what kind of makeup you should wear on a first date- what guys like girls to wear. In particular, most men don't like red lipstick.
Wait, what? What the fuck? Why the fuck am I supposed to care if a guy I just met doesn't like my red lipstick? Shouldn't I be able to wear something that is kind of my "thing" and not have to worry that someone isn't going to like me for it? Why are we encouraging the idea that girls and women need men to like them to feel beautiful, confident, trendy, bold, classic, whatever?!
I wear red lipstick almost every day. And if I don't? It's only because my lips are so chapped they're bleeding, or I'm getting ready to hit the gym. Actually, there have been times that I've worn my lipstick to the gym because I just don't give a fuck. And you shouldn't, either.
Because I wear bold colors on my lips so often, why am I supposed to change that for a first date? If a potential mate doesn't think I'm beautiful, or smart or funny (which I am all three, by the way), he can pretty much go fuck himself. I'm serious. I try to be honest from the get-go about who I am, what I want, and what my style is; because it's all part of me. Am I supposed to wait until the third date to reveal this? What is the acceptable time-frame for making someone like me and then pulling my red lipstick out of my purse, and they will still think I'm awesome?
I still laugh because I was having a conversation with a friend one time, and when I mentioned my lipstick, she said "I guess I just think that red lipstick is less kissable." To which I replied "maybe... but it is certainly more fuckable."
So cheers to being yourself, wearing your red lipstick or your hair in a braid, or whatever it is you do that makes you you. And here's a big fuck you to anyone who can't appreciate it.
Ciaooooooo for now!
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
On Filling Up My Gas Can and Not Being Kidnapped
Let's talk about how my car wouldn't start this morning.
...Maybe I should mention that it was my fault that it wouldn't start, because I avoided putting gas in the tank for, like, 4 days. In my defense, I've been driving for 11 years and never had this kind of thing happen.
It's a good thing that my neighbor happens to be one of my closest friends, and she happened to be leaving for work as I was sitting in my car- late, and getting later- considering the walk to the gas station and whether I'd rather get back in bed than deal with it. I consider it the biggest kind of accomplishment that I chose to make the effort rather than get back into my warm bed.
Apparently this morning was a late kind of morning, because Laura was also in a pretty serious rush; she dropped me off at UDF so I could get a can of gas and walk back. I almost had a small anxiety attack when I went into the store and the clerk said he was pretty sure that they had sold out of gas cans. Thankfully, they had one hiding on a shelf.
Anyway, I filled up the can and as I was screwing the cap back on, reminding myself that I am fully capable of figuring out how to put the gas into my car on my own (I've seen it done 100 times, right?), a man in a truck pulls up, acknowledges that I look stressed, and offers me a ride back.
At this point, I'd rather get murdered than be late- being late makes me horribly anxious. I remember saying "Better never than late!" when I was a kid, and my Mom trying to correct me. But I still feel that way. Maybe it goes back to my whole need to be perfect or not do something at all. Actually, I'm sure that that's where it stems from.
So after weighing all of my options, I get into the truck. I've watched enough crime shows to know that appealing to a serial killer's family feelings can help deflect the situation. He mentioned his daughter, so for the five minute ride, I asked all about her. She is 22, a student, and runs out of gas all the time.
Things I learned about myself today: I can fill up my gas tank all by myself, and I can effectively not get abducted. Oh, and I can be late and the world will not end.
Sometimes I forget that people are inherently good. Today was a reminder of that. I also forget to give myself credit for things I am capable of- like filling up my gas tank- and that I don't need someone to do it for me.
...Maybe I should mention that it was my fault that it wouldn't start, because I avoided putting gas in the tank for, like, 4 days. In my defense, I've been driving for 11 years and never had this kind of thing happen.
It's a good thing that my neighbor happens to be one of my closest friends, and she happened to be leaving for work as I was sitting in my car- late, and getting later- considering the walk to the gas station and whether I'd rather get back in bed than deal with it. I consider it the biggest kind of accomplishment that I chose to make the effort rather than get back into my warm bed.
Apparently this morning was a late kind of morning, because Laura was also in a pretty serious rush; she dropped me off at UDF so I could get a can of gas and walk back. I almost had a small anxiety attack when I went into the store and the clerk said he was pretty sure that they had sold out of gas cans. Thankfully, they had one hiding on a shelf.
Anyway, I filled up the can and as I was screwing the cap back on, reminding myself that I am fully capable of figuring out how to put the gas into my car on my own (I've seen it done 100 times, right?), a man in a truck pulls up, acknowledges that I look stressed, and offers me a ride back.
At this point, I'd rather get murdered than be late- being late makes me horribly anxious. I remember saying "Better never than late!" when I was a kid, and my Mom trying to correct me. But I still feel that way. Maybe it goes back to my whole need to be perfect or not do something at all. Actually, I'm sure that that's where it stems from.
So after weighing all of my options, I get into the truck. I've watched enough crime shows to know that appealing to a serial killer's family feelings can help deflect the situation. He mentioned his daughter, so for the five minute ride, I asked all about her. She is 22, a student, and runs out of gas all the time.
Things I learned about myself today: I can fill up my gas tank all by myself, and I can effectively not get abducted. Oh, and I can be late and the world will not end.
Sometimes I forget that people are inherently good. Today was a reminder of that. I also forget to give myself credit for things I am capable of- like filling up my gas tank- and that I don't need someone to do it for me.
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