I remember the porcelain chair... my legs pulled up beneath me, my eyes towards the mirror... I was never so fascinated, wondering when it would be my turn. To choose any color I wanted from the palate, and smear it on my face until my eyes opened up surrounded in black and my cheeks flushed in pink. I watched my mother carefully. Where was she going? Her eyelashes curled, her legs pulled in, nestled in the oval shaped ceramic bowl. Accompanied by her bag of tricks and lighter fluid. Who did she think she would impress? I don't think it was me.
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