I'm coming back around to blogland after being in a funk most of last week. Why? Heck, I don't know. I just started feeling old and washed up on Tuesday night and stayed that way until sometime last night. Weird.
I'm hoping that Sephora has a lenient return policy, because I discovered that the worst thing to do when you're in a funk and feeling old is go to a makeup store. There were two choices: go the way of the expensive, anti-aging face creams, or toward the funky, gothy, makeup.
And if you know me at all, you won't be surprised that I came home with a so-purple-it's-almost-black lipstick and an eyeshadow combo with the catchy name of "Demon Lover."
Yeah. So, it turns out that Demon Lover eyeshadow and purply-black lipstick aren't the best look for going to play in your church orchestra. Luckily, I figured this out before I actually left the house.
Sigh. I blame it all on the fact that Eminence High School never had a goth set among the students. And now, at 35 (and no, I'm not even acknowledging that 36 is coming up in March) I yearn to be goth. I long for black makeup and combat boots the way other women covet those little blue boxes from Tiffany's. It's a heartbreak, I tell you.
Of course, I also long for red cowboy boots, and I came very close to buying a $12, pleather biker jacket the other day. And, many times since Halloween, I have fantasized about going to work wearing my snazzy blue wig.
Really, the courthouse is pretty dreary, visually speaking. A nice blue wig might cheer the place up a bit.