By Carrie Classon

 

As long-time readers of The Postscript know, I do not delve into politics or current events. You might think this comes from a desire to find common ground with all my readers. You might think I am trying to bridge the divide in a time when there aren’t enough opportunities to examine the myriad of things we have in common. Or you might simply think I am a coward who wishes to avoid controversy.

You would all be wrong. I am simply too ill-informed to say anything intelligent about current events, certainly anything that hasn’t already been said a hundred times before.

But today I am breaking my silence because I have heard some news I feel compelled to comment on. I did my due diligence and found—to my shock and disappointment—this news appears to be true.

There is now a Twelve Step program for lipstick addicts.

Right away, I need to say that I am not disparaging Twelve Step programs. In fact, it’s because I have so much respect for these programs that I find this news distressing. But I decided to research what a Twelve Step program for lipstick might look like because, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t entirely sure what the Twelve Steps were.

Right away, I knew I was in trouble.

The first step, I learned, was to “admit I was powerless over lipstick.” No debate. I can’t go 90 minutes without lipstick. I put lipstick on during dinner. I put lip balm on in the middle of the night. Just writing this is causing me to pause… (now I’m back) to put on lipstick. Check!

The second and third steps concern God’s role in my lipstick addiction. This is where I started to have some trouble. I’ve got to believe God’s got more pressing concerns than my lipstick use, however excessive, but I forged ahead.

The fourth step asked me to “make a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself.”

For this step, I decided to make a searching and fearless inventory of my desk drawers, bathroom cabinet, purses, glove compartment, and bedside table. That’s when I started to think maybe God should get involved after all.

I own more lipstick and lip balm than I ever imagined. I was beginning to give this whole Twelve Step thing more credence.

The next step was to “admit to God, ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.” I guess I’m doing that now. Check!

I moved onto the next step, (suspecting that Twelve Step followers would tell me I was rushing things): “Be entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.”

Uh oh.

I should have known there would be a catch. No one is removing my lipstick.

I skimmed the rest of the steps getting into implementation, then stopped reading to contemplate the full impact of my discovery.

I’ve been wearing lip balm or lipstick or lip gloss since I was thirteen. I put on lipstick before I brush my teeth. If I am lucky enough to celebrate my 100th birthday before I’m wheeled out to the cake with three numbers on it, I’ll be hollering, “Where’s my lipstick?!”

Lipstick is calming and harmless and… okay, now I really do sound like an addict. My resistance to the whole idea was not because it was inherently ridiculous. It was because I was addicted to lipstick—and I honestly did not care! And, with this revelation, I touched up my lipstick.

Now I also know why I don’t write about current events.

Till next time,

Carrie

Carrie Classon’s memoir, “Blue Yarn: A Memoir About Loss, Letting Go, & What Happens Next,” was just released. It is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other fine stores. Learn more at CarrieClasson.com.