Beauty

While I can admit that making up your face on a moving train is certainly more of a skill than anything else, I don't have to like it. This is not your powder room. The seat next to you is crowded with your satchels and shopping bags. Your myriad mascaras, foundations and and the like overflow out of your make-up valise in a salute to artifice revealed. The mystery is gone. It was not only that you are 15 years older than you want to be, but that you have no regard for other people. After the masterpiece is complete, you celebrate not lancing your cornea with the eyeliner pencil by immersing yourself in sudoku and text messages. The thin smell of cosmetics linger as does my disdain.