Melted lipstick
I'm an amazingly lazy person at times, and tend to put my makeup on in the car on the way to work. It had been unusually cool here, so I just left it in the frontseat. I wasn't expecting the heat wave of the last few days, and when I went to put lipstick on the contents of the tube just oozed into a giant melty mess.
I was amongst the last group of children that didn't have mandatory child safety seats and seat belts. I remember standing on the hump that cleaved the floorboard in the back of the car, bracing my stubby toddler arms between the front two bucket seats so I could see through the windshield. My mother always threw her arm in front of me to prevent me from barrelling through the window every time she stopped. I still do that now, with my husband in the passenger seat. It's instinctive.
On a blistering hot afternoon when I was about three years old, she left me in the front seat alone while she ran inside my grandmother's house. No trip to my grandmother's house is a quick one, to this day, and it must have taken longer than she had expected.
Bored, I decided to look through her purse to find something to entertain myself with. I found her crimson lipstick - the holy grail of entertainment. At first I tried to mimic her - sliding it over my lips - but my coordination was off and instead I ended up biting through it. I still remember how badly it tasted. I tried wiping it off, which only made things worse. As a child I hated to have my hands dirty... I wouldn't play in sand boxes, wouldn't play with birthday cakes... nada. Bright red melting lipstick was everywhere. It was all over my hands... and I got frustrated, and left it on the seat where it promptly oozed into the new seats. Angrily, I flung it a la Jackson Pollock around the front seat. I patty caked my red hands all over the windows. Streaks of crimson ran down the passenger window and across the dash.
About five minutes later my mother walked up to the car and saw the massacre of Mary Kay. I still remember how loud her screams were, I remember her yanking me out of the car... I remember her frantically looking me over, trying to see where I was hemorhaging from.
We had the car only a week tops, it's white leather interior looked like a mob hit.
I wonder if she still remembers.
I was amongst the last group of children that didn't have mandatory child safety seats and seat belts. I remember standing on the hump that cleaved the floorboard in the back of the car, bracing my stubby toddler arms between the front two bucket seats so I could see through the windshield. My mother always threw her arm in front of me to prevent me from barrelling through the window every time she stopped. I still do that now, with my husband in the passenger seat. It's instinctive.
On a blistering hot afternoon when I was about three years old, she left me in the front seat alone while she ran inside my grandmother's house. No trip to my grandmother's house is a quick one, to this day, and it must have taken longer than she had expected.
Bored, I decided to look through her purse to find something to entertain myself with. I found her crimson lipstick - the holy grail of entertainment. At first I tried to mimic her - sliding it over my lips - but my coordination was off and instead I ended up biting through it. I still remember how badly it tasted. I tried wiping it off, which only made things worse. As a child I hated to have my hands dirty... I wouldn't play in sand boxes, wouldn't play with birthday cakes... nada. Bright red melting lipstick was everywhere. It was all over my hands... and I got frustrated, and left it on the seat where it promptly oozed into the new seats. Angrily, I flung it a la Jackson Pollock around the front seat. I patty caked my red hands all over the windows. Streaks of crimson ran down the passenger window and across the dash.
About five minutes later my mother walked up to the car and saw the massacre of Mary Kay. I still remember how loud her screams were, I remember her yanking me out of the car... I remember her frantically looking me over, trying to see where I was hemorhaging from.
We had the car only a week tops, it's white leather interior looked like a mob hit.
I wonder if she still remembers.
posted by April at 3:03 PM
1 Comments:
I can still vividly remember the first time I left my crayons in the rear window of my parents' Volkswagon. :-)
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