If you follow me on Instagram, you may have seen my “look what I’VE got bitches!” photo that I put up last night.
I don’t usually show-off press samples and I’m sorry if it made you want to stab me in the face with an eyeliner (here, use mine) but the simple truth is that when you get a red lipstick with your name engraved on it, it’s quite hard to keep it to yourself, especially when your husband is getting more excited over the football than admiring your new red lipstick that has your freaking. name. on. it.
The thing is… I haven’t actually worn it. Or even put it to my lips yet. I mean, it’s beautiful, it’s pristine, did I mention that it has my name ENGRAVED on it?
What if I don’t like it? What if it gives me cat-bumhole lips? What if it’s the kind of red that makes me look like Ronald McDonald’s ugly lovechild? When something seems so utterly perfect, sometimes it’s better to just leave it alone. The disappointment would be akin to discovering that Bradley Cooper’s packing a teeny-tiny penis. Who wants to make that discovery?
Oh, who am I kidding? I give myself two-weeks before curiosity gets the better of me. I’m talking lipsticks, not Bradleys.