Putting Lipstick on a Pig

I'm less than/greater than 42-years-old, which means I've been dabbling in make-up for 25 years or so. As a teenager it was mostly concealer, and, as it was the 80s, blue eye shadow. I remember myself as a pimply teenager, which may or may not have been accurate (I also remember myself as chubby, but looking at old pictures corrects this memory.) So I remember "covering up" blotchy skin and "enhancing" my blue eyes as my two make-up goals.

I have never been good at it. I envied two types of girls as a teenager. Those who could put on makeup and look just plain pretty, and those who who looked just plain pretty without putting on any makeup.

It's the same thing with wardrobe. As the only daughter of a man whose life was Sears Roebuck and whose mother would actually wear a moo-moo to dinner parties, my formative fashion years were pathetic at best. Toughskins in sixth grade when everyone else was in Gloria Vanderbilt's? Yeah, I had a complex.

But I'm pushing mid-40s, my youngest child is nearly two, and I'm thinking it's time to put a little gloss on the ol' image.

It's not been easy.

I bought a blouse ... not a tech shirt or t-shirt or hoodie ... at a local boutique recently. Wore it to church, but snagged a big ol' long thread on it when the Velcro on my double-wide Bob stroller got caught on it.

So I figured, ok, maybe I'm not ready to implement the WIP, wardrobe improvement plan, just yet. Let's work on the face.

I believe, ok, I've read, in about 38 different magazines while waiting at various medical appointments, that what a woman really needs to look put together is lipstick.

I've actually made it my sole New Year's resolution many years in a row: wear lipstick every day.

Some people have loftier resolutions, I know. Not me. The sad thing is, I've failed, every single year. I barely make an effort.

But Monday of last week, I found myself at a cosmetics superstore, and I said to myself: Karen, you will wear lipstick. Every. Single. Day. No. Matter. What.

So I bought a lot of lipstick, hoping something would work.

Monday: Wore it, despite the funny look I received from my babysitter and my oldest son, who upon returning from school, asked, "Why are you wearing makeup, Mom?"

Tuesday: wore it to spinning class in the morning. Re-applied appropriately all day.

By Tuesday night, I'd come down with some kind of cruel stomach flu and could barely put myself in bed at 8 p.m. (I do not blame the lipstick.)

Wednesday: I actually put on the lipstick to walk the kids to the park, even though I felt like Mike Tyson had used me for a punching bag. Clearly, I need to negotiate for 'sick days' in my Mom contract. Because it was not pretty, lipstick or not.

By Wednesday night, I was good as new (apparently there's a 24-hour bug going around), showered and re-applied lipstick to go to a school meeting.

By Thursday I was a failure in the lipstick department. I went running with the kids in the double-wide, but didn't get to shower until late in the day. Or did I shower? Hmm. In any case, the lipstick remained in its case.

Friday I downgraded to tinted lip balm as I ran into my Body Pump class. Never reapplied. Failed again.

Saturday and Sunday went a little better than Thursday and Friday. So I'm feeling hopeful right now. I have a friend who, like soap opera stars, wears lipstick to bed. Said it is a good moisturizer. I may begin to try that, just to help with making this lipstick habit stick.

Even if it is just putting lipstick on a pig.

Kiss. Kiss.