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7.20.2002 | link |


my 16-year-old cousin came over today to help me pack. after several hours, we stopped for a rest. then without warning, she started to take shiny little treasures out of her purse. one by one, she held them up for me to see, identified them by brand, and lined them up like monuments on my coffee table: 2 eyeliners (black and brown). 1 mascara (clump-free). 7 lip glosses in various flavors and shades of pink. 3 lipsticks (matte, shiny, and glitter). face powder and blush. eye-shadow in four complimentary tones. her house keys. her I.D. and gum.

ok. i admit i've never been a real girly girl. i can wear the occasional skirt and doll myself up if I have to. but i’d choose my converse over heels any day, so as my gorgeous little cousin emptied her purse, i shamefully thought of the unglamorous contents of my own bag: wallet. 3-5 pens and/or pencils. a couple of matchbooks. and around 47 bank withdrawal statements, receipts, parking valet stubs, and crumpled pieces of paper with scribbles of email addresses and random notes to myself. on a good day, i may be able to locate some chapstick or lip gloss rolling around the bottom with my quarters and dimes.

i feel like a disgrace to my fair gender. my mother, who taught me to sit with my legs crossed at the ankles, would be ashamed.

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