I took out the old photo albums. I do that every once in a while. Take a trip down memory lane. It’s a sort of check in that reminds me where I once was, how far I’ve come, and how much further I have to go.

Not long into the photo journey, I noticed something: A familiar woman wearing red lipstick.

Who was she, so boldly and unapologetically wearing that universal symbol of confidence? The color that loudly tells the world, “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me.”

She was me. But as I stared at photo after photo, I felt so far removed from the person I saw. It was as if I was looking at pictures of an old friend with whom I’d lost touch. She was familiar, but it was a connection I couldn’t fully recall.

Here’s the thing that I did know. She laughed a lot. Her bold red lips gave way to a joyous smile. She was a level of confident and happy that I  can’t help but envy.

I want to be her…


3 thoughts on “Life in red lipstick

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