She carefully uncaps the sleek gold lipstick tube and twists the base until a vibrant, creamy orange stick emerges. Leaning over the sink, she glides the color across her top lip, then the bottom, moving with practiced ease. When she steps back, she presses her lips together and dabs them gently on a tissue, leaving behind a striking impression.
As a young girl, I was mesmerized watching my mother apply her favorite lipsticks from brands like Estee Lauder, Lancome, Chanel, and Yves Saint Laurent. She never confined herself to a single brand; it was all about the color—a bold, eye-catching orangey-red that has been her signature for as long as I can remember. I cannot recall a single day when she didn’t wear it.
From the gym to the grocery store, during book club meetings and bridge games, she wore that lipstick everywhere. I accompanied her on Meals on Wheels deliveries, where she delivered food with a smile, even to her cousin battling cancer. She wore it to class while pursuing a degree in interior design, greeting a homeless man who offered to wash her windshield with kindness. Whether it was a funeral or a wedding, hosting dignitaries or attending Grandparents’ Day at my daughters’ school, she always had that lipstick on.
As I grew up, I eagerly anticipated the day I could wear lipstick like her. However, in middle school, my peers opted for sticky lip gloss. It wasn’t until my late teens that I ventured to a Clinique counter, trying on a rainbow of oranges and reds. “You’d look better in pink,” the saleswoman suggested. I ignored her, purchasing a shimmery papaya shade that ended up rarely used. Lipstick never seemed right for my thin upper lip and uneven smile, and I questioned why my mom wore it daily.
Throughout my twenties, I generally dismissed lipstick unless it was for formal occasions. I couldn’t understand why anyone would wear makeup to the gym, where it would just sweat off. Who cared what I looked like while shopping for pasta sauce? I believed my work should speak for itself.
It wasn’t until I faced the challenges of new motherhood that I truly grasped the significance of lipstick. The initial weeks with my first daughter were filled with anxiety; breastfeeding was a struggle, and she lost weight rapidly. The dream of serene days turned into sleepless nights filled with the piercing cries of a hungry infant. Each morning, I felt more exhausted than the last, staring at the raccoon eyes in the mirror. My lips were chapped and colorless.
One day, I rummaged through my bathroom and found Ruby Slipper, the deep pink lipstick I had worn on my wedding day. I applied it hastily, blotting it on a tissue. While I still looked tired and somewhat silly with just lipstick, that hint of color gave me a grounding sensation: I am present.
As I transitioned into motherhood, I realized the importance of showing up—not just for myself but for my daughter as well. My mother’s daily lipstick ritual suddenly clicked; it was her way of facing life head-on, whether folding laundry, studying for night classes, or comforting a loved one in need.
Now, for over a decade, I’ve embraced lipstick as part of my daily routine. When my mom suggests I add a touch before we head out, whether for lunch or school pick-up, I pull out that tube and apply it with pride.
This enlightening journey has made me appreciate the small yet powerful act of putting on lipstick. It connects me to my mother and reminds me of the importance of showing up for life, no matter what it brings. For more insights about home insemination and related topics, check out our blog posts on terms and conditions, and learn more about fertility supplements at Make a Mom. If you’re curious about IVF, Healthline offers excellent resources on that topic.
Summary:
This article reflects on the lessons learned from a mother’s daily lipstick application, illustrating how a simple act can symbolize strength and the importance of showing up in life. The author recounts her journey from skepticism to embracing lipstick, recognizing its role in grounding her during the challenges of motherhood.