The other day I was over at lunasariel's LJ and we were discussing our love for lipstick, as well as how we wish there were more pockets in women's clothing ( WHY are there so few pockets in women's clothes?) and I told her how I love lipstick so much that I have a huge collection and I keep them all over the place. There's one next to my computer, two in my desk at work, God knows how many in both my bathrooms, lipsticks and glosses in my various purses and tote bags, and a lipstick in at least one pocket of every coat and jacket I own. There are no fewer than four lipsticks currently in my wallet, plus two lip glosses. Okay, yes, it's quite a big wallet. But it's full of lipstick, not money, sadly.
Astute readers are probably not having any trouble guessing why I'm going on and on about lipsticks in a post entitled 'Laundry Woes'.
I have a pair of exercise pants with an annoying little pocket in a really ill-considered location, which is down by my ankle. I spend a lot of time bending over to dig things out of that little pocket, such as my fitness membership card, my lock, my emergency hair elastic, my spare Starbucks card, and sometimes shopping lists. And of course my mini lipstick. I don't believe I mentioned that I have a box of mini-lipsticks in my underwear drawer. To be honest, I'm not really sure why I keep it there; there must be a hidden psychological reason that is unaccessible to my conscious mind. But I digress. My exercise pants went into the wash with the mini lipstick lurking inside the ankle pocket, which was unzipped because I had removed everything else from it prior to tossing it in the laundry basket.
For such a wee lipstick, it did a tremendous amount of damage. Two pillowcases, which were pink anyway, and which I fortunately wasn't terribly attached to, are now marked with darker blotches of pink. My useful light brown workout top has a couple of minor marks in unobtrusive locations. I had a couple of schleppy sleep tee-shirts that got marked up, but hey, who cares? I'm not a glamorous, filmy nightgown kind of girl, although I would secretly like to be.
The main victim is my husband's nice yellow workout shirt. He likes it because it fits perfectly across his chest and has short sleeves that show off his sexy arms in a modest kind of way because they stop at mid-bicep and cling gently. For the record, this tee-shirt once was mine, bought by me, for myself, but his eyes lit up at the sight of it, and next time I turned around, he was wearing it, and I sort of didn't have the heart to demand it back.
It looks as though it spent its entire hour in the dryer fighting off the amorous advances of a very determined lipstick. It's probably scarred for life. Right now it's back in the washing machine with the pillowcases and a few other victims, but I don't have high hopes of restoring it to its former pristine golden glory. I realized that I don't even own any stain remover! Why can I never remember to buy that stuff when I'm shopping? It's one of those things you don't even think about until you really need it, and then it's usually too late.
I don't know how I'm going to break this tragic news to my husband. His main laundry crime is leaving tissues or napkins in his pockets, but they at least don't produce indelible stains. This lipstick incident is entirely my fault. I am so mad at myself. >(