When I was young, I wore eye liner and light pink lipstick; the trend of the times. As I grew older, I added foundation and moisturizer, eye shadow for a special event. These days, I rarely put anything near my eyes and I slather on more moisturizer than I used to. What little I use lasts me for a very long time, so, I don’t buy make-up very often at all. I buy my foundation and moisturizer at the same store, Nordstrom’s.
Lipstick; ah, lipstick. I never buy lipstick at the same store or in the same shade – and I always buy it on a cloudy day.
You see, I have a tainted past. I take great precautions to cover my lips, change my shade. Serpentine shopping is my operative mode, and identify modification. Don’t tell anyone, okay?
It all started about fourteen years ago on a breathtakingly beautiful fall day. A clear, colorful, feel good sort of day. I was adjusting to an empty nest, having just delivered our younger fledgling to college for the first time and our older fledging to her first apartment. I needed to be out-and-about, and I needed a gift, so, off I went to my favorite shopping center, Oakbrook. My first stop was the Museum Store of the Art Institute of Chicago. I wish it was still there, for all its gift buying treasures. I fear I may have driven them out of business that day.
I milled about, made a selection that would be perfect for a perfect friend. I completed my purchase and proceeded jauntily toward the door.
Bam! I felt like I was hit by a brick. I saw, really saw, stars. My eyes watered. Blood gushed from my nose. The clerks and another shopper gaped as I bounced backwards. From within, where I still stood, the sound of the thud still echoed. From without, passers-by stared amazed – or tried not to laugh. I understood. I painfully understood how it must have looked from their perspective.
I had walked smack dab into the plate-glass door. They do a good job of window washing at Oakbrook Center.
No one offered to help me. I finally, urgently, asked a clerk if I could please have some paper towels to staunch the blood. Mount St. Penelope was erupting. Reluctantly, she gave me some. I tidied myself up as best I could, shook off my humiliation, and walked, once again, to the door.
As I walked, a little slowly, my head pounding my heart’s beat, I was certain I would have a black eye by the time I arrived home.
Slowly I walked, and my humiliation grew, for on that once pristine glass door was the oily smudge of my forehead. The smear of blood from my nose, and then, spot on, the rest of my portrait , in luscious cherry blossom red – the perfect imprint of my lips.
Was that the worst? Oh no. I’m a veteran tried-and-true shopper. I kept on shopping. It was when I walked back, past the store, that I saw my face , still on the door. That kiss of lipstick. I knew I was a marked woman with that one last kiss. . .
. . . I wonder if that was why I was fingerprinted so many years later. Sigh. Our past always follows us, doesn’t it, or looks right at us!
Oh, Penny. As someone who is very clumsy, this post warmed my heart. I am glad you were okay, and I am thrilled to know I am not the only one who runs into things everyone else sees.
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No, Andra, you are not alone in the condition of clumsy. I really was okay (and laughing at myself).
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That is a great story Penny! You had nothing to feel humiliated about but I think the people in that store who did not help you should have felt humiliated. By the way, I hope the garden walk was a great success, you had a nice day for it!
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Hi, Janet. Nice to see you. The garden walk was wonderful. Tired, Tom and I decided to stay in Elmhurst to get a bite to eat. As you may well know, we ran into Declan and I chatted with him for a few minutes. It was nice to see him.
Oh, you should have seem my lipstick mark on that door. I hit it straight on, no doubting that. In between the pain, I was laughing as well, though annoyed at the lack of help. It was around the time when everyone was afraid of blood and I think they had been told to do nothing. A little human kindness would have been nice.
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Goodness! You have my sympathy as a former nurse and recent victim of a face-first dive into the concrete blocks of our basement. It is just awful that no one came to help you. The incident should have been reported to management. Did you break your nose? Lucky you didn’t loosen any teeth. (I had TWO black eyes, broken glasses, a gash on my nose and a trip to the ER). It’s odd about head injuries and problems can arise later. Always have things like this checked out. You had nothing to be humiliated about as it was an accident. It must have surprised you as much as it did me and the Mister and I felt soooo stupid!
How was the garden walk and do you have pictures?
Stay cool during the heat wave.
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I really should have gone to the ER, Marilyn. I was fine, didn’t break my nose, but, did have a black eye for a while. Should it ever happen again, heaven forbid, I will heed your advice. That certainly sounds like a nasty injury to you. You must have hit at full speed ahead. Did you need stitches?
I was a bit angry/perplexed that no one offered to help me. Ignorance or policy to not help lest a suit would follow? All I needed was something to clean myself up with. I should have put in a complaint so the next person would have been treated better.
The garden walk was wonderful! We had a great turnout, a bit hot and humid but no rain, which is what we hope for each year. The gardens were phenomenal and the gardeners seemed happy. For the first time, I did not take many pictures. I had my camera, but, it seemed I was talking to everyone and then running back to the fair, which was my responsibility. I might have a few to post.
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Penny, I remember you telling about this. Like so many things, it is funny now but not so much when it happened. They should have helped you. Hopefully there were no video cameras to amuse then later. My poor grandson as you know did something similar and it was all on tape.
Glad the walk was a success.
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The humorous part of some situations comes with time, doesn’t it, Janet – and you have in your memory lots of those when it comes to me. tee hee
They should have helped, you are right. I was flabbergasted that they didn’t. Youth? Store policy? A time when any blood put people into panic? I don’t know, but, they should have. Fortunately, it wasn’t seriously injured.
Oh, I know about that poor grandchild. He and I have some things in common.
Thank you, Janet. It was. We were all so tired, but, a good kind of tired.
Having fun on PEI?
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Penny, what an awful accident. I did the same when I first moved into my apartment nearly 4 years ago. I was talking to a friend and enthusiastically said, ‘let’s go out on to the balcony,’ and wham, bam, I walked straight into the ranch sliders. I saw stars and had a big shock.
But I didn’t do things in such style as you, leaving the imprint of your lips on the glass. Now I call that very classy.
I was telling Mira this story just last week when she asked why I had butterfly stickers on my ranch sliders.
I’m appalled that nobody rushed to your aid.
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Hi, Juliet. We are online at the same time, it seams. I love the idea of you and I being online across the hemisphere simultaneously.
It was, as you know from your own “wham, bam” quite a shock. Fortunately, I wasn’t seriously hurt – or you. Yes. That is me. Pure style and class. tee hee
We actually have a butterfly sticker on the hood to our range. When we first moved in, Tom was always walking right into it. These dangers are out there in life, no matter our ages, aren’t they?
I think that is what bothered me most. I wasn’t badly injured, thank goodness, but no one stopped to help. Appalled. You are right.
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How delightful that we were online at the same time!
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Oh dear – I am so glad you can laugh about it now and it really is a good story, but I’m so cross no one helped you. I understand why you didn’t want to leave a tell-tale kiss behind you after that – though it was a hard lesson learn!
Axxx
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A little pain, a little anger, a little laughter – life as it is with a clutz like me, Annie. I still can’t figure out why no one helped. It was 14 years ago, panic over blood was still lingering . . . still.
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Oh dear Penny. I’m sitting here feeling just terrible that no one came to your aid! I couldn’t have stood to see someone in that kind of embarrassment, let alone the fact you were bleeding. But with distance from the actual incident I am so glad you can laugh, because, my dear, it really is funny! Not the impact, but the imprint! I have an embarrassing story at church where someone came out of a door very quickly, hit me, and threw me across a hall where my body slammed and broke the dry wall. My husband came by later and wrote my name next to it. It remained for a long, long time. Cruel, he was!
And the end to your story is, I think you’re on to it. Someone took DNA and now you’re on the “to be watched carefully” list, and have your fingerprinting issues. I’m still chuckling, but awfully glad your pride was more hurt than a lasting physical injury. I, too, love Bye Bye Birdie!
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I’m glad you caught the humor of it, Debra. In spite of it all, I was laughing after it happened, imagining the visual from the other side of the glass, then, of course, my “calling card” smeared all over it. I would have thought someone would have cleaned it up after I left. That was an odd time in history, I think.
Of course, breaking through drywall with your name claiming it is even funnier yet. Yikes! That was some impact to send you flying across the hall – and you not seeing it coming.
Aha! That’s it! My DNA has followed me, even if my fingerprints are bald.
Isn’t it a fun movie?
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Oh, Penny, for a camera 😀 I’m sorry to giggle but the thought of that imprint on the glass is almost too irresistible…
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Don’t apologize for giggling, Kate – I’d understand a big laugh. It was funny to see. I tried to replicate the imprint of my lips for the post – didn’t work. Just “had to be there” sort of thing.
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Been there, done that! I, too, am sometimes less than graceful! 🙂 Thankfully, I was in the home of my dearest friend and not out in public, so my “audience” was minimal and, when the laughter subsided, solicitous as well.
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Ha! You have my kind of humor, Karen. It was funny, and I was laughing at the same time I was tearing up for the location of the pain. They must have thought I was hysterical (still, should have helped me). Oh well – it has made for a good telling. Thanks for sharing your misstep.
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Funny to look back on..not so much at the time! Keep on changing that lipstick tho, just in case they’re still looking for you! Besides its fun to indulge in small changes, don’t you think?
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It is these small indulgences that spice up our lives, Sallie. I quite agree with you – besides, never know when or where the lipstick police are lurking.
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How dreadful that no one rushed to your assistance….but I love the idea of you seeing the evidence of your contact with the glass as you walked past again….I hope it took them ages to clear the smears ! Jx
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Oh, Janice, my lips hit that window like a long lost lover. It was painfully funny to see my “evidence” on my return walk – and I did chuckle as I did. Ha. Right on. It was probably some poor night crew who had no idea what happened. Imagine what they thought?
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I’ve done the self-same thing at home with our sliding patio doors, Penny, minus the blood and the lipstick. Ouch, it hurt!
Your lipstick kiss is hilarious in hindsight, but a little spontaneous human kindness wouldn’t have come amiss at the time, even if they’d left you to mop yourself up. Grrr!
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It did, Perpetua, as you, unfortunately, know from your own encounter with a sliding door.
My sense of humor pulled me through, even though it was disheartening that there was no “human kindness”. Grrr is right!
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I can’t believe that no one helped you! What is the world coming to?
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I couldn’t, either. It was quite a few years ago that this happened, so, my hope is that we’ve changed for the better. Thanks for your comment.
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[…] My first string of stitches was as a crawler, slitting my chin open tripping over my overalls. From that moment on I have spent a good deal of time scraping my knees, icing fat lips, bending my tailbone, and wiping my nose on plate glass windows. […]
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