You know what’s fun? Being invited to attend a book club when your own book is the book of the month. Know what’s even funner (besides saying funner)? Arriving the night before only to discover you left all your makeup at home. Cue sarcasm. First world problem, I know, I know, but still…

Here’s the thing. Once you start wearing makeup in the ninth grade, it becomes a slight addiction, a minor vice. There’s always that next pot of magical cream that will make you look a wee bit more youthful/taller/thinner/smarter/funner/whatever… And when you don’t wear it people say, “Oh honey, you look so tired. Are you okay?”

Honey my foot.

So you keep wearing it.

This is how it all went down (lest you think being a writer is all glamour and glitter)…
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