All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

Lip lining for Beginners

I work with a girl who wears only lipliner.

Not lipstick.

Only the lines.

She is one of those people who constantly ask you questions, firing them off in rapid succession.

How do I look, do these jeans make me look fat, do you think I’m in trouble, is Carol mad at me, what do you think we are having this meeting about, I think I am having a glass of wine tonight, are you?

Little did I know that I would be having a vat of wine that night.

But the questions kept coming, too fast for reflection and response.

At some point I started telling people in my life to only ask me questions on a Tuesday.

I would have told her the same thing if I didn’t know exactly how sensitive she is…and how many more questions that request would inspire.

But when she asked me how she looked and demanded that I be honest, instead of doing the sensible thing and lying, I told her to fix her lips.
She looked astounded.

Little did she know that within the next hour, she would be even more astounded.

Astonished even.

“What do you mean?”

Urg.

“I mean that if you only outline your lips, it makes your face look harder than it is”

She looked down. Ah fudge.

“I mean you have such a lovely face, why don’t you fill in your lips with a nice red or ruby? That way it’ll make them pop a bit”

“Do you think I should get Botox?”

“No, no I didn’t mean that. Well if it makes you happy, why not? I am a great supporter of cosmetic enhancements. Up to a point anyway”

“You mean like getting a nose job, boob job and eyelash extensions, like you?”

“Maybe…not that you need them…”

Gosh, talking to people is exhausting. Especially women, I find.

Luckily Carol came back into the room at that point and Kelly averted her array of questions to her.

A mental sigh of relief was in order.

Of course watching the two perfectly toned and pretty people chatter away made me feel like an old lady. An ugly, overweight, tired-looking, stern old lady.

When did I become this person?

Oh wait… I have always been this way.

I grew up washing my face with soap, never applying face or eye cream, and only in my twenties, did I see someone dab it on expertly underneath and to the sides of the eyes.

And that person was a guy, ladies and gentleman.

I was officially the least groomed person on the planet.

I also despised the feeling of foundation on my face, for the brief period before I sweat it off and start shining like the star that I am.

Powder, powder, powder, girls would chime at me but trust you me; there is not enough powder in the circle of the world to keep me from perspiring profusely while sitting perfectly still in an air conditioned room.

Either way, it surprised me that amateur me could see that only liplining and not lipsticking looked crappy, even though these girls were titivated to the wazoo.

When the other people started skulking into the room, I saw how each and every one of them leered at the women.

If anyone looked at me, it was my boss, and it was for different reasons entirely.

“We called this meeting to tell you about the restructuring we are planning for the near future. Finance has informed us that we will not be interviewing for the vacant positions in this department. Instead we will all have to double-hat a little bit to get projects off the ground again, but once we are well-oiled, things will start falling neatly into place once again.”

A PowerPoint presentation appeared on the blank screen behind the increasingly hateful bitch that was speaking. I felt the supersonic blast gaze I didn’t have, preparing to burn a hole straight through her and her infuriating little slideshow.

“So as you can see, Liz you’ll be handling these extra little responsibilities as well as your original job description. If you can just sign here for the new specs”

A short stack of papers were sidled up to me and a pen hastily shuffled into my hand. I can’t be sure but I think my jaw was hanging and a look of open disbelief stamped all over my face.

This was supposed to be my last month in this department.

It’s not like it was the first time my promotion was delayed because of an insufficient head count and me having to pick up the slack, no extra charge.

But I was so sure; this time was going to be different.

It has been 6 years after all.

“Liz? This is of course only temporary for now. We will discuss the way forward as we go along. And of course, you know our open door policy. Come talk to us anytime. Anytime at all”

The way forward?

The fucking way forward?!

Because it feels more like I’m going BACKWARDS!

The pen was trembling slightly now, as if in rage. I knew how it felt.

It was even a red pen. Red as in blood. Blood as in murder. Murder as in revenge.

Revenge as in sweet and hot.

I wish I had brought a gun to work. I wish I had a gun to bring to work. I wish I had the guts to secure a gun in order to bring it to work.

I set the pen back down, before I became the first person in history to successfully complete a massacre using only stationary.

“You will have my resignation letter by COB.” I hated that term.

The room gasped and became very still.

The Bitch looked flustered for a second but then the hard glint came back, the way I knew and loathed her.

“Very well, you may leave this meeting then”

Not even a little please-don’t-go.

Bitch.

I fumbled with my laptop and charger and hastily left the room, clutching my belongings as if doing laundry.

Standing in the corridor, I waited for the cold realization to wash over me.

That old familiar one that usually comes after making a hasty and terrible decision.

But it never came.

Instead a wonderful, cascading sense of relief and euphoria started glowing deep within the part of me that never reveals its next move, like the impending and usually startling emotions on the conveyor belt of my subconscious.

Right. What’s next.

My phone starting vibrating madly.

Question after question after question popped onto the cracked screen.

And it wasn’t even Tuesday yet.

I started towards my in tray to see what tasks and expenses awaited me and then suddenly stopped short, coworkers hurrying from boardroom to boardroom screeching to a halt behind me.

“Hey Liz, whattup? ”

“Uh buh erm…”

“Are you okay?”

“YES!” a smile stretching from one ear to the next, I thought back to all my dearest coworkers, sailing out of this office and into a brave new world far, far away from this company. And how you could have gotten sunburn from their luminous grins.

“Ahem, I am well thank you. And how are you? Everything good?”

“Ah you know how it is. I’m telling you, I don’t think I can do this much longer”

So even in other departments, people were developing SOSEDTFD.

Sudden Onset of Severe Extreme Depression that Turns the Future into a Desert.

A pang of guilt.

I am abandoning ship with the crew still on deck.

Ah well, every man for himself I always say, since ten minutes ago.

“Well anyway, see ya later” slightly too chirpy.

He gave me a suspicious look but then hurried along to the next soul-destroying meeting where upper management is locked in a continuous loop of self congratulating.

Making my way to the lift I felt like crying hysterically, for a minute, but quickly stifled it because, you know, pride and stuff.

Pride! Hahaha, aaaaaah I crack myself up at times.

Once in my car and all set to go, as the GPS informed me, I realized this might come as a bit of a shock to my as yet unaware husband, but I decided not to phone him.

This is face-to-face news.

Getting slightly more worried with each kilometer I drove, I started brainstorming possible ways of income that involves none of the previous methods.

Cleaning lady? No my feet are too tender.

Waitressing? No my feet are too tender.

House wifing? No..again, my feet…they are tender.

Sliding my literally just paid off car into the garage, I was frantically searching the dark jungle of my mind for sugary words and gentle pep talks to soften the blow.

Nope. Not today, sighed the jungle.

“Hey you” I flippantly quipped, walking into the house.

“Hey” said my husband, sounding bored. The way he always sounded, even when scuttling the walls with excitement.

“So, small news flash, just in.”

He looked up, sensing something in my voice.

“I…resigned today”

I could clearly see him struggling to construct the right expression on his face.

Finally he settled on a blank stare.

“Well? What do you think?”

“You should have quit years ago”

And with that the subject was over so quickly that my near panic attack still crouched in its starting blocks for a few hours afterwards.

I went to the kitchen and poured two huge glasses of wine. I figured Sam would have one with me on this momentous occasion. And if he didn’t, well, then I’ll have one glass pre-aerated for once I finished the first, which should not be long. Not long at all.

He took one sip, pulled his Brat Face and handed it to me. I settled into my corner of the couch, cradling my first serving (first of oh so many) of wine in my hands as if it were coffee on a winters day.

My phone beeped and my stomach lurched when I saw that it was a message from my boss.

I am still waiting for your letter of resignation.

There was a taunt in there, as if she thought I was bluffing and would come crawling back to the nest with a sheepish look on my face.

Wouldn’t she just love that.

I opened my laptop, carelessly flung on the couch beside me and started typing my letter.

The words leaped out of me like wild horses breaking from the woods and galloping exuberantly onto the beach.

Typing the final sentence I barked a loud cackle,

My time with the company has taught me many invaluable skills and I will always treasure it.

Send.

It’s over, I really did it.

Oh fuck I really did it.

Suddenly the desert that has been my future for six miserable years was a vast and treacherous wild land.
I couldn’t see the wood for the trees.

I gulped back the remnants of wine #1 and hastily started suckling on my second.

An old petrol ad where a little boy fills up his toy car with a toy petrol tank and going glug glug glug, surged up at me from the nether regions of my memory and I giggled softly.

So this is what freedom feels like. The fabulous, terrifying future looming at me, bright with possible wonders and/or horrors.

And like Kelly with her lipliner, I still have so much to learn. I better get started on filling in those blank spots I never knew existed.

Tonight I am getting scuttered – as described by the Urban Dictionary: Totally drunk, elephants, langered. Well-gone so drunk one could shit oneself.
E.g. I was so scuttered last night I tried to drive a lampshade.

Tomorrow we start fresh.

The end...or is it?