I have worn the same exact brand of lipstick for the past ten years. Seriously, people. Ten. This is a big deal for me, as I am the marketing guinea pig of the century. If I see a commercial that tells me I need a new shampoo, I am going out to purchase the new sudsifying wonderment in a bottle. What? Purple is the new black? Time to move on, people! Do you know what it feels like to find your one true color? It's like meeting your husband for the very first time. Fireworks, and then, (sigh) stable longevity. You stick together. Why? Because he compliments you. 

This lipstick wasn't just any lipstick. It was the lipstick of all lipsticks. It could transform a drab exhausted mother of 2.5 children into super model Marilyn Monroe with supple lips ready to smooch in mere moments. (Okay, in all reality, it probably only upped me to a C-level celebrity status-but someone did ask me for my autograph once in Publix...)

Fast forward TEN YEARS LATER. Imagine the utter devastation I felt when I went online to order a refill of said fabulous color yesterday and I was pathetically notified that my dream boat shade had been DISCONTINUED??? What? GASP? CHOKE! Well why don't you just smack me in the face with me a package of those blue divorce papers, infadels!

First my beloved Domino and now THIS??? What, I ask, is the point of continuing on in this dreaded life we call adulthood if our favorite pleasures in life must cease? As it turns out, my sister in law and I wear the same color. "Before, I was fat with great lip color," I texted with great melodrama into my keypad to her on the other end. (she could tell I was seething with melodrama.) "But now I'm just FAT!!!" (One does need good shade in pregnancy, as all else tends to fade, sag, etc.) The lips tend to distract.

As it turns out, my investigative and wonderfully resourceful SIL called a local store, and they have ten more sticks in Birmingham. Their last stash ever. I told her to snag me five, and this should give me ample time to settle on a color of lesser greatness. "I guess I won't slit my wrists after all," I moaned, eternally grateful for her everlasting resourcefulness. 

WHAT is this world coming to? (Places back of hand to forehead and faints softly into victorian shaped sofa)

Oh, and PS-I lied. I can't handle non compartmentalization of the site, so please continue to browse my other pages. My apologies for any extra mousal movement this may have caused you. Thank you.