Red Lipstick
I’ve rarely been one to follow actual “trends” in fashion, makeup, or hairstyles. I’m the kind of person who notices something went “out” of style a decade ago… about a decade late. Then I make a conscious decision about whether I care.
Somehow, I’ve managed to trip in the right direction now and then. (For the record: skinny jeans, Dr. Martens combat boots, and white button-ups will forever be in my rotation. Not necessarily at the same time, but also maybe. Also, hole-y jeans? Still here for it. Don’t care. Sue me.)
Now, solidly in my 50s, I can confidently say that at a certain point, you really start to care less about what anyone else thinks or what “trends” say makes you cool. Anything telling me what I “shouldn’t” wear after 50? Immediately deleted, swiped past, symbolically doused in gasoline and lit on fire.
RULES. HA-RUMPH. Don’t tell me what to do.
But when I look a little deeper, I notice something: I am invested in how I’m present myself each day. It’s vital for my mental clarity and well-being that my appearance reflects how I feel or want to be seen. If it doesn’t align, I can feel “off” for the whole day - like I’m wearing someone else’s skin suit, complete with a “One Size Fits All” tag that absolutely doesn’t fit.
Just me? Ah, well.
But here’s the thing: it’s another arbitrary, ridiculous rule. A baseless boundary meant to keep you in line, doubting your inner fire, your worth and your worthiness.
Another ad tells you what the car you drive or the brand of pants you wear says about you:
“Want to be seen as ‘haute’? Wear this.”
“Want to be brilliant? Go to school here.”
Oh, and my personal favorite:
“You’d have flat abs if you only did this.”
All of it whispers that the labels, the packaging, the performance matter more than you do - and more than those around you do, too.
Slick, effective marketing, that. And it’s coming for us - all day, every damn day.
Moments of Clarity
Recently, I had a moment. Actually, a few moments. And I’m sharing them because I honestly wish them on everyone.
They were moments of quiet clarity. I realized I’ll probably never have flat abs again - and that’s okay - because I’ve given birth to two of the most extraordinary humans I’ve ever met. Those abs have grown whole people that I would choose a thousand times over. A sacred exchange I wouldn’t undo for all the world tucked into my pocket.
That my hands and thumbs ache from decades of typing my heart out into emails and writing things that were sometimes worthwhile… and sometimes not. Some that never saw the light of day.
Then, surprisingly, I went back to something I’d long left behind: red lipstick.
I remembered something weirdly “sticky” that someone, nearly 20 years ago, told me: “You should wear lipstick more often.” It made me feel small - not complimented, not insulted exactly, but reduced. Viewed through a lens I didn’t ask for and didn’t feel comfortable inside.
I basically stopped wearing lipstick after that - maybe for special occasions. Maybe.
It stuck with me, but it didn’t own me. So recently, I tried it again.
THIS time, I reclaimed it. I applied it while shoving that sticky sentiment away. The simple act of reapplying it a few times throughout the day (because I drink enough water to empty Lake Erie) made it feel like mine again. Like a little ritual. A little “here I am.” Paying attention to “me” when I usually avoid the mirror altogether once I’m dressed for the day.
That tiny rebel on my left shoulder was like, “Hell yes! You OWN this, sister.”
And the angel on the right? She whispered, “Yes. Take this moment to remember who YOU are, not who they told you to be.”
That was all I needed.
Red lipstick - when I feel like it - is officially back in rotation.
If you’ve got no idea what I’m talking about, it’s okay. There’s room for all of us at this mirror. Just make sure you wink at yourself in the process. And maybe kiss the mirror. 💄💋
