Chapstick, the Homewrecker

The first of the topics I must discuss is the very compelling issue brought forth by Cat.


Chapstick.


What a curious little invention. Seemingly so innocent, and yet so destructive. I know all too well the pain which is caused by this little tube of balm. It has special powers that trick the human mind. Think about it. There you sit, perfectly fine, you and your lips. No problems or disputes between you. And then...it happens. A woman just a few feet away begins to dig in her purse. You're nosey, so you watch. You become mesmerized. "WHAT IS SHE GOING TO PULL OUT?" you scream from inside your head. Then, slowly, but confidently she produces a small plastic tube, equal in length to your pinkie finger. In one swift movement she plucks off the cap and raises the skin protectant to her lips. Instinctively your own lips start to hurt. They feel dry and you lick them in a desperate attempt to quench their unyielding thirst. You begin to reel the contents of your own purse through your mind like a mental slide show...wallet, checkbook, clicky pen, chocolate, cell phone, Chihuahua named Fifi, and more chocolate. "Oh no! I have no chapstick," the tiny voice inside your head screeches at a decibel that makes your purse pooch duck for cover. Instantly your lips feel like the Sahara desert, and you stare longingly at the woman moisturizing her lips. Your lips begin to pulse with pain.



SNAP OUT OF IT. There's nothing wrong with you. You've been duped by the mind powers of the chapstick. This however, is not chapstick's worse offense. Chapstick is a homewrecker, and so is Cat for suggesting this topic. Because now I have to talk about it, and it will surely get me in trouble.



Setting: Minivan in route to Colorado.



I sit in the backseat staring absent mindedly out the window watching the trees roll by. My mind is numb from under stimulation when out of the corner of my eye I see my mother pull something out of her purse. Chapstick. The syndrome instantly begins and my lips start to hurt and feel chapped and dry. After generously (selfishly) applying the chapstick to her own lips, she goes to replace the tube back into her purse.

"Wait mom! Can I use that?" I ask earnestly.

She looks at me disgustedly, as if I wasn't the same individual that came rolling out of her some 16 or so years earlier. "No," she replies, and turns back around.

"Please, they are so dry," I moan.

"Be quiet Bridget."

"But mo..."

"I am not about to have your germs on my chapstick."

"I'm your daughter!"

"Yes I remember. I almost died giving birth to you, now be quiet."

"But they are chapped and hurt"

"Chapped?! Don't talk to me about chapped. My lips darn near chapped right off as I pushed you into this world, don't talk to me about chapped lips."

"So you understand what it's like then?"

"Do you want to walk to Colorado?"



As you can see, 6 years later, the hurt is still very fresh. Shaky fist chapstick.