June 1, 2007
About lips
I was in my late forties before I found out I have no lips. I could have gone the rest of my life without that knowledge. I probably would have if someone hadn’t told me. Have I told this story before? I know I’ve told it, but have I told it here? I’m not sure. Well, if I have, this is for the newer readers. This is the story of why I put on lipstick before I open the gate and face the outside world each morning. It’s the story of why I refresh my lip color after I have a meal or finish a cup of coffee or green tea from Japan. It’s why I always have lipstick with me and don’t let people see me without it. It happened like this.
My family was gathered at a funeral home in Dallas the day before we were to bury my father. There was the ususal sadness and melancholy, interspersed with those guilty little moments of joy that come when someone long absent wandered in. We had been waiting for over an hour for “the viewing” before my father’s casket was finally brought into an adjacent room and we were escorted in. Those moments are never easy, but we were all shocked when we saw how Dad looked. His cheeks were rosy and round, his skin unnaturally smooth, his lips full. This man in the box was a stranger who looked like a parody of the man we’d gathered to mourn and honor. Someone spoke with the funeral director and we were escorted back to our original sitting room. More time passed, whispered conversations, nervous pacing, a few quiet tears. Finally Dad was “ready” for us to see him and we were once more shuttled to the small room where he lay. He still didn’t look right. No one looks right in a coffin, but he really didn’t look right.
Something was still “off.” I didn’t recognize what it was, but my Aunty Margie did, and she chose that moment to blow her top. She roughly pulled my brother, sister and myself into a line beside her and demanded of the funeral director “Do you see any lips? We have no lips. HE has no lips. Why are you giving him lips? WE DON’T HAVE LIPS!” She was quickly approaching hysteria as those last words roared out … and we all realized the absurdity of the situation and broke out in laughter. We had no lips, my father was dead and we were arguing about his makeup!
And that is why I wear lipstick. I found out that I have no lips. I suffer under the delusion that adding color makes it appear that I have lips. Please don’t disabuse me of that notion.
[tags]family stories, funeral stories, just stuff, lips, lipstick[/tags]
Posted by skeet @ 12:05 am • Just stuff, Home & Family
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June 1st, 2007 at 3:06 am, Mr. Fabulous Says:
I am sure that you have lips, and that they are above reproach!
June 3rd, 2007 at 11:12 am, Whim Says:
LOL! Great story!