Stocking Up on "Burn My Rump" red

Change happens. (So does s++t but who's keeping track?) It's a constant - like death and taxes - but not as awful. Seasons change. Faces change. Heck, even the change in our pocket has changed over the years. Thankfully, most change is gradual (look at your old photos and watch youself gradually disintegrate...now, that's fun)The worst change is the stuff that happens with no warning. Most of that just sucks.

The ability to handle change and rock 'n roll with the punches has a lot to do with the type of life you've led. When I first moved to the midwest I was stunned to discover people who were still friends with people they'd known in kindergarten! Friends they'd had for life. As a transplated East Coaster, the concept of living a consistent and fairly predictable life astounded me. (I was also jealous)I had not lived that life. The only constant I'd ever experienced was chaos and change. They were my friends. I was comfortable with them. My lifelong friends are named Anxiety and Uncertainty. But, meeting actual (as opposed to fictional) people who had lived in the same town (often in the same house)kept the same parents and the same lifestyle forever...well that was as foreign as wearing a Birka and being subserviant to men...simply not gonna happen to me.

I am comfortable with most change. I expect it. I get nervous when things stay the same too long. The longer things are steady and even, the more anxious I become. But some change is even too much for me. There are just certain things that I rely on or expect to remain a constant. When those shift and wake up my inner cortisol (the stress hormone) then you don't want to be anywhere near me.

Here's a great example: I cannot recall a time in my life when I wasn't consuming large quantities of Coke (the brown liquid, not the white powder). Sure it rotted my teeth and maybe packed on the pounds but I was dedicated and loyal and addicted. Because of me my dentist sent his kids to college and got his wife new boobs. This was a workable and symbiotic relationship. Then some jerk at Coke's headquarters, possibly threatened by the surge in Pepsi consumption (I'd rather drink pee), decided to ditch the old recipe and introduce "New Coke". For Coca Cola aficionados this was a sacrilege, a travesty, and a big freaking FU to long time customers with rotted teeth and flabby thighs.

I, personally, went ballistic. I wrote letters and made calls incessantly. In response to my tirade, the wise fools at Coke sent me coupons for new Coke! Infuriated, I maintained my letter writing campaign, returned the coupons (what were they thinking?) and began to do what any red-blooded American would do - I hoarded.

I scoured the stores, packed carton after carton of old Coke into my car. I built a Coke wall in my basement. Friends contributed, as did family. I had no "master plan". Let's face it, when my stash was gone I would be screwed. I drank the basement Coke judiciously. One a day...savored like an expensive and rare wine. I did not share. Want Coke? Get your own. In rather short time the Big Guns at Coke saw the error of their ways and returned to the old formula. Of course, I took personal credit for this.

Another change you can always count on dwells in the realm of makeup. To keep us buying and trying, the cosmetic companies wait until a shade or a product is doing well and then they drop it. Gone. Yep, you can stock up but face it, when your wall of Babycake Orange or Burn My Rump Red is gone you go back to the drawing board. Over the years I have waved bye bye to many great lipstick and foundation shades. When a product like this is discontinued, you are forced back to the department store to face those overly made up hags, dressed in black, who lurk behind the counter. I despise those women. Never had an encounter with anyone behind the makeup counter with whom I would like to have lunch.

A few years ago, while in Vegas, I stopped at Valhalla, or as you know it, Sephora. Sephora is a woman's paradise. Aisle after aisle of cosmetics, no one breathing down your neck, and the ability to try on anything and everything in the store - without pressure. I don't know who "Sephora" is, but I love her and I would like to have her baby. On this particular day my shopping reverie was interrupted by a young man wearing extreme makeup. (It's Vegas, remember) It's odd to be approached by a sales person at a Sephora store, but this guy seemed unusually exhuberant - and very made-up. He was there to demonstrate a new line. Would I like to have my makeup done? Uh, YEA! As he proceeded to scrape the existing products off my face he must have felt an overwhelming need to bond with me. He took my hand, looked into my eyes and said, "I am a drag queen at night.I know all about makeup." OK.... That's nice. Thanks for sharing. "Then get to it!" I replied in my cheeriest voice...and he did.

Now, I love makeup and I love looking good. Finding the right products at my age isn't easy. It's a challenge. Therefore I should have known, just by looking at HIS makeup, that this might not be a good thing. But, when in Vegas...

He started. He layered moisturizer, then primer, then mixed 2 shades of foundation (which he declared were a perfect match for my skin tone when combined). Then came the bronzer (to give me contours cause I guess my natural ones weren't good enough)and then blush and finally a powder to "set" all the other layers...maybe to keep them from falling off my face. I was beginning to feel a little heavy in the face...but his face was beaming! "Oh, you are looking gooood.." he exclaimed. Next he applied some outrageous green eyeshadow, dark black eyeliner, and a deep green mascara. Feeling like a freshly iced cake, I opened my mouth ever so slightly so he could brush on a pale shade of pink (PINK! I hadn't worn pink lipstick since 7th grade) He stepped back to admire his work. I glanced at a salesperson who'd been observing, she grimaced...And then he handed me the mirror. "What do you think!?" he asked. I was, probably for the first time ever, dumbstruck. I looked like him. I looked like a drag queen. I could probably walk down to the nearest casino and get a job as a showgirl (well, maybe not). I was ready to go onstage!! "Wow," I said, "that's really interesting...I look so...so..different..." I managed to say. "YES! You do look great," he declared and stepped back to admire me yet again.

He did not try to sell me the products but he did hand me a list of everything he'd used. Had I purchased it, I would have been $226 lighter in my wallet.Unsure what to do next,not wanting to offend him, and eager to get to the nearest bathroom to undo the new me, I actually bought the lipstick. I never used it. I still have it. They don't make it anymore.