Someone once told me I had expressive lips. I’ve never forgotten that comment. In fact, I have reveled in that comment for several years, and it has even caused me to make secret kissy faces at myself in the mirror.
Oh! Darling! Your lips are so?. Expressive! Mwah!
And perhaps that is also the reason why I have developed an acute and paralyzing need for lip gloss. I mean, I don’t need it. I just like it. A lot. If I’m in a store, and there is a display of lip gloss it calls to me like a Siren. In order to avoid it I have to plug my ears or tie myself to a mast.
I have a very hard time refraining from purchase. If I dumped out my purse right now there’d probably be five tubes of the stuff (along with a green paper cicada, a travel-size bottle of Purrell, my wallet, Halls, vanilla spray, a whole lotta scraps of paper and maybe some Pixie Stix) but if I could, I would buy more.
Each tube in my current roster has its own unique qualities – each has a different flavour, some are a little glittery, some light and airy and last for about 15 seconds and come in a squeeze-tube with little pink bubbles floating in it, and others are a more traditional stick-type variety. Selection really only depends on my current mood.
My latest favourite, however, is something called Healing Beauty Vinyl Lip Polish. It caught my eye at Loblaws (where the siren song hit me somewhere in the meat department) and lo and behold my wandering and dazed self found a large display of marked down merchandise. This was among the piles, in a bin marked down to $1.00. (!) It was the packaging that caught my eye. It comes in a transparent cube divided in half with tiny hinges. The gloss is in a small compartment on one side, and there is a tiny mirror on the other which is the exact width of my lips if I hold it just so. I’m a sucker for this kind of stuff.
But now I’m kicking myself. Why did I only buy one?
The gloss is heavier (is there actually vinyl in it?), but this is a good thing. It seems to act as a bit of a sealer, and the end result is a full, healthy-looking pair of lips. It lasts longer than a lot of the others in my purse. There is no scent or taste. It has a little bit of shine without the look of that blasted Super Brilliant Dazzle Diamond Spazzle Shine of the Rimmel girls. (Who all look sickly with those swollen pillow-lips … they shouldn’t be drawing any more attention to them anyway. Ick.)
This is not exactly the kind of lip gloss you’d slip into your pocket, the container is too bulky for that, but it easy to fish out of your purse if you’re in a situation where you’re forced to navigate its murky depths using only your sense of touch. This feature is most useful when you?re driving and suddenly decide that you need to be glossed before arriving at your destination. Hey, don’t you know that it’s dangerous to take your eyes off the road?
I was hurtling down Carling Avenue when I remembered I had it, and found it within a few seconds of rummaging. There were no car accidents caused by my inattention to the road.
The down side to this lovely design is the fact there is no applicator. Unlike the squeezable or twistable tubes of lip gloss, you’re forced to use your finger. Since the lip gloss is heavier than most, a smear will remain on your finger until you find a tissue, or wipe it into the palm of your hand or, heaven forbid, on your jeans. I predict that applying the stuff would be an unpleasant task, say, if you were a fishmonger or a garbage collector. Who thinks of these poor people? Or, if you’re like me, and you decide to apply it after you’ve lubricated the lock on your front door with stinky industrial oil. FYI – I HAD washed my hands, and attempted to further disinfect by using the aforementioned Purrell, but the smell lingered.
All in all, I hope I encounter this stuff again, sale or no. And next time I will buy at least two.
