I love it when my morning commute writes my blog for me.
The scene: train delay, up and down the Blue and Orange Lines. Squashed commuters, doofy tourists, garbled announcements, and a train lurching its way to Metro Center. I’m standing in the aisle, near one of the precious seat-back-to-ceiling poles (indispensable for short people).
The woman in the seat underneath me is wearing a floral trenchcoat in an arresting shade of post-nuclear green. She overslept and is running late. How do I know this? Because she’s digging through her makeup kit and putting her face on. We’ve all touched up our lipstick or fluffed our hair on the Metro. But, in the course of five stops, I saw her:
- Apply concealer to her under-eye circles and zits
- Sweep highlighter across her forehead and cheekbones
- Dab on a bit of peachy blush
- Yank her eyelids out of the way to scribble on some eyeliner
- Sweep on some Clinique eyeshadow and Great Lash mascara
We came to her stop before she had a chance to put on some lipstick or do up her hair. I hope she was transferring, so she’d have a little more time to finish her toilette.
I left the train feeling skeeved out. She wasn’t clipping her toenails or anything, but I just really didn’t need any insight into her beauty regimen. Some things are better done at home, or in the ladies’ room at your office.
Which brings us to today’s PSA: Women, nobody needs to know how you got to be so pretty. The results should speak for themselves. Nobody needs to see the mascara wand, the blush brush, or the tweezers. A little bit of lipstick or a swoop of powder across the nose? Fine. But if it involves both hands and touching up your eyeliner by the fluorescent light of your BlackBerry? No. Just, no.
8 comments:
I had a boss once ask "Is this fingernail clipping bothering anyone?". To which I replied "Yes". He took it out in the hallway. That time. Every other time he just didn't ask.
Ugh.
Back when we had a girl at my office, she took me to lunch one day and cried about being on her period. I'm all for supporting people for those sorts of things (hell, I don't even blink when a girl says that), but more when they're my friends, not coworkers whom I don't especially like.
I love that you put a picture of a caboodle on your blog. :-) Oh happy day when I got my first caboodle...now I try to avoid anything resembling makeup on most days.
Justin, I used to work with a fingernail clipper as well. Yuck! That clack-clack sound is revolting - almost as bad as people who slurp gum (I'm sensitive to gross noises). I don't think I've ever shared the status of my uterine lining with a colleague, either.
Erin, don't you miss taking your Caboodle to a slumber party and trying out all your latest Wet n' Wild lipglosses on all your friends? Then playing Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board?
I find that the mirrored back of my ipod works very well as a mirror when I apply my lip gloss on the metro. I wonder if that was intentional.
Whoa. I was literally going to blog a very similar experience that happened to me yesterday. I'd think we might've been on the same train, but I was on the green line. Seriously, how hard is it to set your alarm five minutes earlier and do that shit at home?! But, hey, I'm also assuming these are the same women that wear socks and Crocs to work too...Oh, DC, you ugly bastard.
HP, I bet Apple designed the iPod that way just for you!
Marissa, every train has at least one woman doing full makeup. Makes me miss the South, where a lady wouldn't dream of leaving the house before she put her face on.
A few months ago there was a woman on the Red line who had at-minimum knee-length hair. It was like a horse's mane. She proceeded to brush it (with enormous strokes, obviously) and braid it while riding on the train. I nearly thought I would vomit.
Jennifer, oh my. Crystal Gale on the Metro!
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