As I watched her deftly twist the cap off a shimmering gold tube, the creamy orange lipstick emerged with a soft click. Leaning over the sink with precision, she applied the vibrant hue, gliding it effortlessly across her lips—first the top, then the bottom, and a quick rub together to blend. With a gentle blot on a tissue, she left behind a perfect lipsticked “O.”
As a child, I was captivated by my mother’s makeup ritual. Brands like Estee Lauder, Lancome, Chanel, and Yves Saint Laurent adorned our bathroom shelf, but it was never about the label; it was all about the shade—a striking, unmistakable orangey-red that defined her. This color wasn’t just for special occasions; it was her daily staple. I can’t recall a single day when she didn’t wear it.
She donned her signature lipstick to the gym, grocery store, book club, and even while volunteering for Meals on Wheels, where I often accompanied her. It was her constant companion, whether she was delivering meals to a sick relative or heading back to school for an interior design degree. She wore it during life’s milestones—funerals, weddings, and even when meeting with important guests.
Growing up, I longed for the day I could wear lipstick like her. Yet, during middle school, the trend leaned toward sticky lip gloss, and by my late teens, I finally made my way to the Clinique counter. I tried every shade of orange and red, but the saleswoman insisted I was more suited for pink. I left with a shimmery papaya that sat unused in my makeup bag. My thin upper lip and uneven pout made me question whether lipstick was for me. And honestly, why did my mom wear it every day, regardless of the occasion?
In my 20s, I rolled my eyes at her dedication. “Why wear makeup to the gym if it’ll just sweat off?” I scoffed. Why bother putting on lipstick to run errands or impress colleagues when my work should speak for itself?
But one day, everything changed. The early weeks of my first daughter’s life were filled with anxiety. Breastfeeding was a struggle, and my little one was losing too much weight too fast. The dreamy visions of tranquil days were replaced with sleepless nights filled with desperate cries. My reflection in the mirror showcased raccoon eyes and dry, pale lips.
In that moment of exhaustion, I reached for Ruby Slipper, the dark pink shade I wore on my wedding day. As I applied it, the color brightened my weary face. I still looked tired, but that pop of color grounded me—a small reminder that I was present in my life.
As a new mother, I had to show up—not just for myself, but for my daughter. My mom’s daily lipstick ritual suddenly clicked. Life is about showing up, and lipstick was her way of embracing it, whether she was tackling laundry, studying, or comforting loved ones.
Now, after 12 years of embracing this routine, I understand its significance. When my mom gently nudges me to apply some lipstick before heading out, whether for lunch or picking up the kids, I gladly pull that tube from my purse. And if you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, be sure to check out this insightful post on Cervical Insemination. For those considering at-home options, visit Make a Mom for reputable insemination kits. Also, for valuable information on pregnancy, WHO offers excellent resources.
To summarize, what began as a childhood fascination with my mother’s lipstick evolved into a deeper understanding of its meaning. Lipstick is more than just color; it’s a symbol of presence, confidence, and the daily commitment to show up for ourselves and others.
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