Frosty and The Power of Lipstick

I think Lilly has a multiple personality disorder.

 

There.  I said it. 

It's just that she's been acting "coo coo ca-choo" lately!  Her new favorite activity is to put on a frightening amount of lip gloss (I'm talking about GOBS, people) and run throughout the house hollering, "Frosty is back!  Frosty is back!"  ("Frosty" is the alter ego??)

Alarming, right?

When she is "Frosty" she prances on her toes, up and down the halls.  She growls like a Gremlin.  She talks like a robot circa 1985.  She becomes wildly boisterous.  She laughs maniacally.  She slides down the stairs on her belly.  She jumps off the night stand in my bedroom.

When Lilly grows tired of these "funny farm" shenanigans, she calmly strolls into the bathroom, wipes the gloss off with a piece of toilet paper, and says with a serene smile, "Frosty is gone."  She goes back to watching Dora the Explorer.  When the lip gloss is gooped on, Frosty is back.  When the lip gloss is wiped off, Frosty is gone.

Being the obsessive and analytical "Mama Leisha" that I am, I have thought a lot about Lilly's new-found hobby.  (Better to spend time pondering than to spend it Googling specialists in my area who are used to handling this sort of thing.)  In all my thinking, I made a surprising discovery.  (Besides coming to the conclusion that my kid is normal.  Squirrely, but normal.)

I can relate!

I can totally relate to Ms. Lilly!  When I am Queen Sweat Pants--looking out over my domain of sticky floors and windows that need to be washed--I feel a little glum.  When my hair hasn't been washed in a week and my t-shirt is grubby and filthy, I get a case of "the blahs."  When my face is "makeup free" for an extended period of time,  I start to feel like the Kraken.

BUT with a lipstick as hot pink as Barbie's corvette, or as red as a chilli pepper, I can conquer the world!  I step a little lighter.  I prance on my toes too!  I get out of the house more.  I smile at the boy bagging my groceries at Smith's.  I laugh more.  I feel good.  I feel pretty.  And there is power in feeling pretty (aka being "Frosty") and in doing something nice or special for yourself; like applying lipstick.  (Side note:  That's the key--doing something nice or special for yourself, so you feel...well...nice and special.)

I act more confident.  I hold my head a little higher.  I face monotony with a sultry pucker.  ("Take that, Monotony.  Mwah!")  I can grocery shop with crabby kids and change diaper blowouts.  I can keep my gagging to an absolute minimum when my son hands me his booger.  I can tackle laundry and fix dinner and play tag and build blanket forts and clean the oven with zest.  When my lips are smokin' like a four-alarm blaze, my attitude is smokin' too!  I can do anything.

Even jump off my night stand.