I wondered, once again, how I found myself in these situations. Sure, to some it was just a makeup party. However, the hostess was flighty enough to set the women’s liberation movement back by fifty years or so.
I cringed as the lady’s voice assaulted my ears. “Now ladies, let’s see what we can do for you. You all want to look your best for your man, right?” There was a cacophony of giggles from the rest of the women in the room.
“Now, dear, you are certainly in need of some help, aren’t you?” The hostess’s beady eyes landed squarely on me. My so-called friend–the one that had dragged me to this horrible event–elbowed me in the ribs to prevent the response on the tip of my tongue from leaving my mouth.
I smiled and in my most saccharine voice I replied, “You know, I always did want to learn how to apply clown makeup. I see you know how, could you show me?” My friend’s elbow found my ribs again but I didn’t regret it, the woman really did need to learn how to tone it down.
The hostess’s eyes rounded in horror, as if she couldn’t believe what I had just said. “Why I never…you…you…” she finally managed to stutter out. I just continued to smile, happy that my evening was finally looking up.
Writing prompts: party, liberation, makeup