I was decently impressed with myself for coming up with the title “Lipstuck” for my blog because it sums up my life by combining the two words that apply to me the most: lipstick and stuck.
Stuck applies because I’m twenty years old and lately I’ve been feeling very, well…stuck. Stuck at my job. Stuck financially. Stuck emotionally. I just feel like my life isn’t progressing as quickly and aggressively as I would like it to be, but then again, I’m twenty years old and it wouldn’t make much sense for me to have my life together at this point. I’m still young and I’m still making mistakes happily. So I’ll just continue on this path until I wake up behind a dumpster married with two kids and a hobo husband named Rusty.
Lipstick applies to me obviously because I have an unhealthy addiction to the cosmetic. It has become my trademark accessory. I’ve spent more money on lipstick than I care to admit. If I don’t wear lipstick to work for a few days in a row, at least three people ask me what’s wrong with me. I guess I don’t look like myself without it. I become ordinary; unrecognizable; forgettable. One of my coworkers only talks to me if I’m wearing, as he likes to call it, my “whore red lipstick.” How sweet.
I have big lips. This is a fact that I am acutely aware of and one of which I am constantly reminded. They’re not disgustingly huge or unflattering. I just have full lips that you normally wouldn’t expect to see on an underprivileged white girl. To be honest, I’ve only been comfortable and accepting of them this past year.
Imagine having something abnormal about yourself being constantly brought up amongst strangers, family and friends alike. Nothing majorly odd. I’m not saying like having a penis on your face instead of a nose or you have hooves instead of feet. Just something small, but different enough about you that people bring up every chance they get. After awhile, you start to get a little insecure about the penis on your face. It gets aggravating.
When I was in middle school I remember standing at my locker and a few of my teachers were gathered in a group and they were whispering and laughing. I knew they were talking about me. I just knew. When you’re a baby teen and you’re in middle school, you know when people are talking about you. I look over my shoulder and we all make eye contact and they stop talking. Being fairly close to all of them, I straight up said,
“What are ya’ll saying about me?”
After exchanging shifty eye glances, one of them says,
“We were just talking about your lips.”
Here I am, thirteen years old and a group of 30 year old women are discussing my mouth. WHY.
I immediately got embarrassed because I thought they were making fun of me but they began to tell me how beautiful they were and how people pay a lot of money for lip injections which I clearly didn’t need. I look back now and laugh but at the time, I was mortified. Mainly because these comments didn’t come across as compliments. They made me insecure because I was tired of people pointing out something about myself that made me different from everyone else. I craved conformity at the time. Ha.
My lips have also caused me to be the butt of every oral sex joke you can imagine.
I was…erhm..I wasn’t really dating him and I wasn’t sleeping with him but I had a crush on him and we kissed and snuggled for about a week if that gives you any kind of idea of what our relationship consisted of. Let’s call him Gus.
Now Gus and I hadn’t been seeing each other for that long. We were still in the stage of our relationship where the guy pays for everything and the girls pretend they don’t eat or shit. The most superficial and exhausting phase of any relationship.
So one day, we’re laying in bed and he’s staring at my face and caressing it and being really sweet. Now, me being somewhat emotional and romantic, I expect this boy to say something like “you look so beautiful right now” or hell, even try to kiss me.
You know what comes out of his mouth?
“You’ve got some great DSL’s.”
……………………………………………………………da fuq did you just say to me?
For those of you who are unaware, DSL stands for “Dick Sucking Lips”.
Let me tell you that after making a comment like that, Gus never got to find out. I’m not the most confident person but I was pretty out of his league. He was really sweaty and farted in his sleep anyways. Bye, Gus!!!!
After that incident, I decided to really stop caring what people say about my lips regardless of their intentions. I just slap on some lipstick and accentuate my big ole lippies.
We all have things we hate about ourselves but you really just have to suck it up and accept who you are. Some of us are just dick sucking lip mongrels and some of us have penises for noses but we’re all human and we all have to look at ourselves in the mirror every morning. I have learned to love my big mouth and you should learn to love your fat thighs or your button nose or your cute little love handles. I don’t know. Just let people compliment you in uncomfortable or borderline insulting ways or just put some lipstick on and tell everyone to kiss your ass. That’s what I do.