I have a confession to make.
I am addicted to make up. And not just any- specifically mascara.
Okay, here’s how it went down. My mother started putting make up on me when I was about six for fancy family photos. Not even kidding. It was usually blush, lip gloss, … and my old dear friend, mascara.
Once the Regan recession hit us hard, we couldn’t afford fancy studio quality photos, so my mother took to doing her own. She again appointed herself chief makeup artist.
(I think my sisters may hunt me down and kill me after this blog. Who cares! Onto victory)
Looking at that photo… it’s supposed to be a holiday one… I don’t know what’s worse; the make up, that my mom considered purple to be ‘holiday enough’ for me, or my FLY POPPED COLLAR.
I was in a wedding once. This is what happened:
Well, when I entered middle school at the tender age of ten, my mom actually told me I could wear mascara, in her words, “As long as you don’t look like a whore”. She was such a tactful parent. So I did what any ten year old given enough slack would do! I wore make up to school.
^That’s me in middle school. I don’t look like a whore!
So years upon years of wearing it, and mascara has become my shield. My armor. My necessity. I cannot leave the house without it. Yesterday I got in my car to run a quick errand and in the *chance* someone might look into my car and notice me before I had my shower, I PUT ON MAKE UP.
So…. the next time you see me at a Dregs show putting on make up… it’s just my addiction, baby. 25 years of something can’t be WRONG!