All Made Up
Anne approached me a week before Christmas and asked if it would be OK to start wearing a little makeup. Mind you, she had already taken it upon herself to borrow a friend's makeup and the resulting look was that of a 12 year old who had somehow found herself in the middle of a bar fight. Not pretty.
I had always sworn that when I had a daughter and she asked me about makeup I would take her to the nearest makeup artist and have a professional show her how to apply her makeup. My parents had a strict rule that no makeup could be worn before the age of 16. So needless to say, when I turned 16 and got my hands on the stuff I looked like a cross between a circus clown and the town whore. Someone had made the mistake of giving me one of those makeup kits with 1,002 shades- and I wore every damn one of them. At the same time.
I took Anne to the mall and straight to Bare Essentials. There is a man who works there who has the best taste in makeup, and I was pretty sure he could teach Anne a thing or three about application. I was right. She was super excited and had the super glossy lips to prove it. She sat there in rapt attention watching everything he did and copying it down to the letter. When we checked out she hugged me and thanked me for letting her wear makeup like her friends do.
As we left the mall I glanced over to get another look at my made up little girl.
Suddenly she didn't look like a little girl anymore, and suddenly I realized how old I felt.