Eroticchat wiith my mom dads dating application
“Women hold up half the sky,” Mao is often attributed to have said, but apparently not while they wear makeup.“We thought girls who wore makeup were bad people,” my mom told me, as my fingers wrapped tightly around the Clinique Long Last Lipstick in Sugared Maple, the first lipstick that she ever bought for me and the same lipstick I still wear ten years later.Mom wanted something simple and pleasant that she could wear to work at her clinic, where she bent over her patients and immediately knew every one of their hygiene sins, from failing to floss daily to losing their retainers.I watched the beauty counter sales associate gently test fragrances on my mother’s wrist while my mother’s brows furrowed with each sniff.In elementary school, the prettiest of my mother’s classmates — according to her — were recruited to join the local dance academy.Mom was not chosen, but she did graduate valedictorian in a few years.As a little girl, Mom sat on the streets of Chengdu with charcoal and thin butcher paper, sketching the changing faces that passed her by.
But Mom didn’t actually use the perfume much, and this Thanksgiving when I came home, I found the same bottle of Elizabeth Taylor White Diamonds sitting on her bathroom sink, surrounded by anti-aging serums and creams that I had gifted her throughout the years in my sample-loaded tenure as a beauty intern and Yahoo Beauty editor.It has been over ten years, but the bottle is only half-used.Last year, I gave my mom a Jurlique gift set, and she told me recently that she finally started using it — after the expiration date passed. “I’ll get you something else.” But as with leftover food, no matter how stale it becomes — once, I begged Mom not to eat a week-old stale donut — my mother won’t let anything go to waste.As with all movements led by mostly men, beautiful women were used to glorify and distract.) beauty — and not just beauty on the face, either.My great-grandmother on my father’s side participated in the ritual of footbinding as a child, in which her feet were cracked and wrapped up painfully tight with strips of fabric so that not only would they stop growing, but also she would only be able to take delicate, small steps for the rest of her life.