Lately, I’ve been beset with stirrings and yearnings from my inner diva. There I was getting ready for one of my
numerous doctor appointments. Rarely a week goes by that I don’t have one and, dressing for them is, believe me, a no-nonsense affair. I grab a pair of yoga pants and a clean shirt and I’m done. Ordinarily, I spend zero time applying makeup. I think, “why bother?” I am just going to yet another doctor appointment and they don’t care how I look anyway. As I stood in front of my bathroom mirror studying my face, I heard the softest inner whisper say “wear some red lipstick.” My initial reaction was not positive. I thought, “there’s no way that I am putting on red lipstick, or any lipstick for that matter!” So ignoring the unwanted intrusion in my head, I set about brushing my teeth and taming my wild hair.
As I was doing so, the insistent whispers became a mantra and the words “wear red lipstick,” bombarded me. No kidding, this went on for a couple of minutes. I was mentally swatting the words like I would a pesky fly or mosquito. Still ignoring and rejecting the idea, I began to pay attention, not to the words, but my reaction to them. Why was I so adamantly against something as simple as wearing lipstick? Was I in such a rut that the mere idea of wearing red lipstick could cause me such angst?
Before my health forced me to resign from my attorney position, I wore makeup every day. I was a trial attorney and I routinely met with clients and witnesses, as well as appeared in court for hearings or trials. Makeup was a part of my uniform that enhanced my look and style, and I wore it for me, not for anyone else. It made me feel like I was putting my best self forward. When I went on disability, all of that changed.
In my mind, I had no reason to wear makeup. At first, I was too depressed to even consider it. As time went by, my enormous stash of makeup went untouched and unused. In all honesty, I didn’t care enough about myself or the way that I looked to bother with makeup. Under the circumstances, in pain all the time from fibromyalgia and oftentimes, migraines, taking the time to put on makeup seemed absurd to me. So, I didn’t.
By this time, my hair was tamed and I was fully dressed; however, the voices urging me to put on red lipstick remained. Still reluctant, I went to my overflowing makeup drawer, opened it and stared for some time. Lifting my eyes from the drawer, I looked in the mirror. For the first time in a long time, I studied myself. I remembered all the reasons that I loved to wear makeup; especially that it raised my self-esteem, and made me feel special. I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. I picked up my favorite red lip color carefully applied it to my lip. I thought, “Today, I wear red lipstick–for me. My inner diva smiled., and I smiled back at her with gratitude.