Wednesday, October 04, 2006

I Do Have Two X Chromosomes

Monday I purchased make-up for the first time in over a five years. Some of you are wondering if I am really so tiny that it has taken me over half a decade to use up all my make-up. Unfortunately, I'm not that tiny. How cool would that be, though? If I were that tiny I'd be typing with my feet right now. That's be a sight. I'd film my tiny little self hopping from one key to the next in order type this blogpost. The film would make me a Youtube sensation. It'd be sweet! I could write and workout at the same time.

I'm loosing focus.

The reason I haven't purchased make-up in years is because I don't wear make-up often. I'd rather spend the make-up applying time on things like sleep and computer solitaire. I guess I'm not very good at being a girl. The only femine activities I've been able to master are uncontrollably weeping when someone breaks my heart and menstruating. I'm an excellent menstruator. (I thought about going pro, but I'd rather focus on the comedy right now.) I fail miserably at all other things female. I can't match my shoes to my purse. Hell, I don't even own a purse, nor can I walk in high heels. I don't know how to purchase attractive clothing. I hate Dr. Phil and I can't play field hockey. I am a disgrace to my gender.

I decided this past Monday that I would make a concerted effort toward a more feminine me. I decided I would buy make-up. The only other time I purchased make-up was before I moved to Portland, OR and I was living with my parents in NJ. I only knew one place to buy the face paint -- The Willobrook Mall in NJ. I traveled to the port authority bus terminal and caught myself a bus destined for the Willbrook Mall. Later that night my best friend Anna informed me that I could buy make-up in NYC. I was like, "Now you tell me. How was I supposed to know that?"

I stepped off the bus and into Macy's. I followed the signs that read, "Cosmetics" and found the cosmetics counter I had patronized nearly 7 years ago. The cosmetics lady standing behind the counter was not the same woman who sold me my make-up the last time. Acid waves of anxiety crashed in my stomach. "Will, this woman understand?" I asked myself.
She asked me, "What can I do for you today?"
I summoned my couraged and somewhere deep down I found the strength to respond, " I need that cream stuff that makes your look the same color all over."
"Foundation?"
"Yeah. That sounds right. Only, I don't want it too thick. And, I don't want it to look like I'm actually wearing it. So if I could not feel it and not see it that'd be perfect."
She took out a long q-tip type instrument. I stopped her immediately, "Wow there. Do we really need to do strept culture to pick out my make-up."
"What?"
"The Q-tip."
"That's just to put the foundation on."
She went through several shades of caucasion flesh until we found my color. Turns out I'm "light linen." I feel like I've let my Italian ancestors down. I thought I'd be a light kermit or a pale olive, instead I'm bedding. .
After we found the foundation I told her I'd need blush. I was so proud of myself for knowing the name of the powder. My pride lasted a second before she threw me a curve ball and suggested bronzer instead of blush. "No, No, No. I don't want metal on my face. I heard what happened to that James Bond chick who they painted gold. None of that for me."
"What?" She asked confused.
"I got blush last time let's just stick with the powder and forgo any metals."
"Huh? Ma'am, bronzer is a powder. It's like blush but it's earthier in tone. You apply it with the same brush you'd apply blush with."
"I have one of those!" I exclaimed like a five year old who had just tied her shoes all by herself for the first time.
"Good for you." responded Ms. Cosmetics.

Now, I was feeling good. Without hesitation I told her I needed lipstick.
"OK. Do you want lipstick or do you want to go with a lip gloss?"
Here's where I my head nearly exploded and I had a breakdown. I began to wimper, "I...I...I don't know. What should I do? There's a difference? I can't do this. I...I..." The cosmeticss lady at Macy's held me. She rocked me back and forth telling me, "It'll be OK, ma'am. It's just lipstick. There. There. Shhh."
"Or lip gloss," I cried.
"How about we try the lip gloss?" She suggested "Take a risk and walk on the wild side. You can experiment with something new."
"OK." I said as I wiped the tears from cheeks and sniffed back the snot. The cosmetics lady handed me a tissue.

We went with "razzmatazz cherry."

I waved goodbye to the cosmetics lady and said, "See you in three years."

3 comments:

J.L. said...

This, my dear, is why we are the same person.

Nina Paley said...

I guess I'm not very good at being a girl. The only femine activities I've been able to master are uncontrollably weeping when someone breaks my heart and menstruating.

Hey, those are the only girl things I'm good at too!

Michelle said...

Same here - being all feminine is too much work and money.