I have wanted to do something daring lately—something fierce and electric. I would like to push my limits and go outside of my comfort zone. This isn’t a typical feeling (actually, I am usually afraid of change!), but this season I’ve been magnetized to alterations on the horizon that are pulling me toward a new day. I find myself listening to the hum of the cars and breathing in the aroma of thick espresso while contemplating my next move in the chess game of life. The challenge I seek, the pawns I will play and the queen I will defend.
But I need something to hold me over…
So, I’ve started small. I’ve been wearing red lipstick—and not a burgundy or rose. Red. When I put the color on my lips, I am pushed out of my shell. I know that everyone is going to look at my mouth, and it makes me smile or giggle more. Red lips are not enough, nor are they what I really want. They don’t challenge me, or elevate who I am. But this red is a symbol of my own metamorphosis. In some sense, I am puckering up to lure in transformation—the same way I would prime and polish my lips to catch the attention of a young man. Except this time, it's for me.
And so, this morning, in a bright shade of rouge, I am listening and breathing and curiously wondering how I can paint my entire life red—without leaving an ugly stain.
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