Day One: The Profile Picture Change

Like all great transformations, it isn’t official until it’s Facebook official, so I took to the screen using a cute, slightly close picture that accentuated my dark black lips. I got a varied response. Some friends loved it; I had several flatmates comment their approval, but other people, namely my grandparents, had another opinion. My grandpa commented, “Not a good look for you. I still love you though.” My mimi questioned it, “Who is this?”

With the grandparent’s opinions officially in tow, it was time to go outside. Or not. I decided to stay in and do homework instead, which didn’t exactly negate me from interacting with people as my flatmate hosted a “Studio Gibli Film Festival” night at our place. People gathered and several commented on my dark lips. A girl even suggested I dye my hair ombre grey to go along with the new look. For a brief second, I thought about taking the plunge. Then I remembered reality and decided not to.

Day Two: Trial by Fire

My school had the lovely (read terrible) idea to do a fire drill at 10 am on a monday morning. Thankfully I had gotten up early that morning, and came out lipstick in tact. That was awkward. I knew I’d feel uncomfortable showing off my new look, but I wasn’t expecting the first day to be with everyone on campus. Thank you, Jessup. Surprisingly, no one noticed, and those who did didn’t say anything.

To celebrate the fire drill, or more to keep occupied, my flatmate and I had went to all the sporting events that evening--soccer and volleyball. I was too busy cheering to notice people’s reactions to myself, but frankly, in that moment, I didn’t care.

Day Three: Questioning my Decision to Life

Black lipstick is impossible to keep on for very long a time. After every class, I would reapply, making sure the lines were perfect, and basically hating my decision to adult. My eyebrows were on point though. Anyway, I was sitting in the living room lamenting my woes, and my friend asked why I didn’t just take it off. I told her it was for a blog post and her eyes widened with realization. “That makes so much sense. I thought you were wearing it as a style change.” Gee, thanks. Because the goth, emo scene is so me.

My lunch date had a similar reaction. She didn’t want to tell me I was making terrible life choices. But I mean, who wears black lipstick with a faded red shirt with smiley face and the word “happy” stamped across the front during everyday life. This girl, apparently.

Day Four: The Day No One Noticed

Honestly, by this point, I was just tired of reapplying the dang stuff to care. Black lipstick is impossible to keep it on, and when it does fade, it’s not like it fades nicely. No, I had a giant ring of black goop around my lips. Not attractive. How people wear black lipstick with confidence is beyond me. I was forever checking mirrors and wondering if it was applied right, and freaking out when it wasn’t.

Fortunately, I didn’t get any rude comments or stares, but the occasional passerby did comment their approval. That’s probably because the dress I was wearing actually matched the colour for once. Although I hated getting up 30 minutes early and planning my outfits the night before (I’m a tee-shirt and jeans kinda gal), I did like having everything put together. Even if I was afraid my "put together" would be ruined if I took a sip out of my water bottle incorrectly.

Day Five: The Day Everyone Noticed

I walked into my Early Church History class, lips freshly painted, and sat down. Father Chris greeted me, not with the obligatory hello, but instead said, “Is that blue? Or black? What is that?”

“It’s black.”

“Why?”

“A social experiment. I wanted to see people’s reactions when I challenged social stigmas.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Geez, thanks.”

“Well your skin tone. It just doesn’t match, and you can quote me on that.”

I laughed and class began.

It’s a socratic seminar style class, which means a lot of dialogue. I was making a point about St. Athanasius’ On the Incarnation when Father Chris turned to me and started laughing, quite kindly. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t take you seriously with your lips.”

The entire class burst out laughing along with me, “I’m sorry. I promise my lips will be another colour next week.”

Conclusion

Don’t do it. Well, correction. I won’t be wearing black lipstick for a while. It was hard to manage, and hard to keep perfect. I dreaded thinking through my outfits each day and really prefer my t-shirt and jeans look. I learned that most people don’t care, or won’t comment if they do, but I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Stares pointedly at the friend who didn’t like my look but didn’t tell me and let me walk out of the house wearing black lipstick. It was an experience that while I’m not likely to repeated, I enjoyed. I enjoyed when people did show reactions--positive or negative-- I enjoyed peering into stigmas and learning about the world. It’s crazy how many people just didn’t care, and how much I learned not to care. I’m happy I’ve done it, and I’m happy it’s over.