All Of Hers

By: Liv D’Addio

In front of the mirror, I see how many di erent people one person can truly be.The cherry red tube of lipstick facing me on the dresser tells me I can be a sultry, bold woman for the night. Maybe with some heels, a blazer if I want some edge. Can I pull it o ? Will people see through it?

Maybe a nude pink. A softer approach to today. Matte? Gloss? How will this have people perceive me? I feel washed out in that pink. But last week I loved it. Today am I pink? Would a brown neutral match my features more? What season am I in? Why do I care so much about this lipstick?

I always wear chapstick. The same chapstick, under everything, never changes. A clear base. But what I put over it changes me for the day. It tells people who I am that day, how I’m feeling. Bold, subtle, neutral. It’s just my lips. Why would this change so much?

God.

Jewelry. Gold or silver? I always wear gold. What if I wore silver? Which is considered softer? Do I seem too out, there switching to silver? I never wear big earrings. Maybe today I will.

If I walked out in public wearing all silver, bold red lipstick, my hair pin straight using the straightening iron I never use, no one would know this isn’t me. No one would know this is a completely di erent version of myself than I show every day. If I moved away, and rebirthed this new version of me, introduced her to the world, no one would know she’s out of character. I’d be whoever I wish to be

The makeup is suddenly dripping o my face. Melting o , like sweat. Puddling onto the floor. Collecting into a pile of all I could choose to be, who I am, who I have been, who I am today. Sliding away from the bare canvas of my skin. Leaving me blank. Reality of the canvas.

This blank state is also a version of me. A new face I can present. The raw, untouched starting point of all my personas. The starting code to all my characters. She is natural and untouched. She is so neglected, always being covered, painted with makeup. What if she came out? What if I went about my day as just her? Who would people see me as then? The truest self. Facing me in the mirror.