I don't even know why I bother to put on makeup some mornings. It's not like anyone's going to look twice at me, unless I trip and fall. Then I usually just wish they weren't smirking and giggling, not even bothering to hide their amusement behind their cupped palms. So I try and maintain my dignity, pray that my cheeks are only tinged pink instead of painted midnight red, get up and keep walking. And I wonder why I bothered to put on makeup that morning, 'cause it hasn't done me any discernable good, and if it has, then I don't wanna know about it.
The poll of popular opinion says that I'm a lesbian. They're wrong. Popular opinion knows shit about me. I swing straight, unlike their facts. One thing about dwelling in the Bible Belt - neophobia runs rampant, and I'm using that as an umbrella term. Moderation? Toleration? What do THOSE words mean? Oh, yeah.... They're yankee liberal phrases! Shame on you, SD! I always knew you were going down the wrong road! Go to church - they'll set you straight, in more ways than one.
At this stage of life, popularity takes priority over learning and class, like cashing in the gossip chips is more important than knowing what's going on in politics. It's all about being pretty, being fashionable, and climbing that social ladder that's lying on the basement floor. Bitter? For once, I can honestly claim that this is not the case. I look good, I dress well, and I know it. But I have a brain, and I make no secret of the fact that I sometimes use it.
So, I don't know why I bother sculpting my face with product every morning when I could simply skip it and get another twenty minutes of sleep. Maybe it's 'cause I know that there will come a time when learning and class will take up their due, and I'm hoping that that era of my life showed up over night. Or maybe it's 'cause I'm vain. After all, I look good, I dress well, and I know it. But I do know that on Monday, when I'm walking and I fall, I'll pick myself up and wonder why I bothered to make the effort.
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