For clarification, I haven’t taken the train
again…this is just someone that I forgot about from my train ride home the
other day.
Once again, I was not provided with a name
because I was sitting behind her but from what I could see, she looked like a
Belinda.
Belinda was meticulous…such precision. Each stroke had significance
and purpose. I watched in awe as she dipped the end of her brush back in her
lipstick tube to apply another coat of gloss to her already colored lips. This
was the fourth time that Belinda had put the end of her brush in that damn tube.
First of all, I wanted to figure out how she
managed to have such a steady hand on the train. Secondly, I wanted to know
where she was going that required her to re-do her entire face on a train that
was leaving the city.
Belinda was now pushing the five-minute
mark…and that was just dedicated to her lips alone. I looked down at my phone
to check the time. Yup, definitely five minutes. Belinda started to bore me.
Twenty minutes later and Belinda had moved
onto her eyes.
I looked her up and down and gasped.
Belinda had her dark brown hair up tight in
a ballerina bun with a hair net making sure that it was securely in place
(which led me to believe that she was indeed affiliated somehow with
ballerinas). She was wearing a nice cream-colored cardigan with a swooping
bottom. Casually, she wore jeans. And on her feet…
She. Had. On. Sneakers.
I was appalled. Don’t get me wrong. I love my sneakers. But when you see
someone spend over 20 minutes on a train reapplying
their makeup, you would think
that they have a somewhat keen fashion sense. I mean c’mon. She could’ve picked anything else! Boots, flats, heels,
wedges, sandals…but she chose sneakers.
Belinda had officially and thoroughly
disappointed me.
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