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Published on: 26 Jan 2011 by tara_celeste
So today Larry called and he decided to come over. :). He said he'd be here around 5:30pm, so it being 4ish I had to try to tidy the house and get my daily chores tackled so that dust bunnies would not bite him when he entered the house. I got the laundry in the washer, had one load on to dry and had the basic cleaning done when I heard a knock at the door. I ran to answer it.
In walks my Larry looking as handsome as ever and me in my pajamas with no makeup on and a giant zit with it's own vortex on my cheek. After letting him in I dash to the bedroom to grab my concealer, unknown to me that Larry had followed me back there. I grab the stick remove the cap and just as I was about to attack my zit with it, he asked "What's that do?" I stare at him. I look at the concealer stick and back to Larry, by time I look back again he had grabbed it out of my hand and is staring in awe at the concealer. He gabs a big hairy finger in it.
"Ewwww! It's like mud...only weird colored..." No duh. Give it back. I reach for it but he holds it up. I tell him I need to cover my zit. He asks how, so I explain to him and then reach for it again. He hands it to me and I quickly hide the blemish.
Now he is rummaging through the unorganized pile of makeup on my dresser picking things up and holding the towards the light for examination. Now he wants to know why girls where makeup, why we can't leave the house without it. I laugh and tell him it makes us feel more confident, and makes us look good. He dosen't buy the looking good thing and explains that he thinks makeup is like war paint. I imagine myself in an Indian gettup. I think about this for a second. Men don't like pink, or cry, or do certain things because they want to be masculine. Women wear make up, frilly things, and co certain things because we want to be feminine. But that's what we already are. We are kind of like fake Indians in Westerns with war paint.
Haha. I still like my makeup. I tell him to think of it less as war paint and more like regular paint. Make up is like art to women, we can express ourselves with it, reinvent ourselves, "improve ourselves" or change someone's impression of ourselves. He seems to reflect on that for a minute. He tells me to close my eyes.
I close them and immediately start laughing, afterall when he usually tells me that I get a big kiss on my forhead. I feel something drag across my cheek and I jerk. He laughs and tells me to be still. I feel more little drags in every which direction across my forehead. He pauses so I open my eyes and walk to the mirror. I have a thick black letters "ILY" across my forehead and a thick stripe on my cheek. He tells me he was "expressing himself", I laugh and give him a big hug. Then he decides that I look like a foot ball player with that big black line. So I wipe it off and we go to the front room and watch "Interview with a Vampire."
Mom didn't know what to think of my face full of grafiti, and Larry was just smiling like a big goofy angel. I love that boy. <3