floating | ✓

16| halloween

"Accept your feelings but don't let them rule you. You're in control. You're not their slave."

-Rosebud

16| halloween

I look at the mirror as I finish dressing up. My black silk dress with the fishnet stockings clings to my body. I have put on a red velvet cape. I think I have dressed the part.

Now, for the makeup-I put on a foundation that is a few shades lighter than my skin. I blend it in carefully and put on concealers, which is of the same pale, whitish color. Then I set it with some powder.

I look as pale as a ghost. I grin.

Then I apply some eyebrow powder and shape my eyebrows. Curling my eyelashes, I put on the fake ones. It takes more time than I expected, and it frustrates me.

After that, I draw a long line of eye liner, making the end sharp. I let it dry. Then it is time to apply lipstick.

I have stolen from my mom's vast collection of lipsticks. This one's name is blood red, and it looks exactly like the color of blood. It's a matte liquid one, so I put it on and let it set.

And I am all done.

I need to straighten my hair, which is going to be another time-consuming task. And I am so tired. I wish I had a best friend with me now, like those girls in books whose best friend does their makeup and transforms them into someone new.

"Mom! Mom!" I yell at the top of my lungs. "I need your help! "

Mom enters my room wearing her usual gray pencil skirt and white blouse, an ID card hanging from her neck.

"I thought you guys were dressing up for a party?" I ask, frowning.

"Yes, I am dressed," Mom answers, and I point to her the straightener. Mom shakes her head and starts combing my waist-length knotty hair.

"Are you supposed to be you?" I ask her through the mirror.

Mom laughs. "No. "

"Then?"

"Wait 'till you see your dad," Mom says, and I raise my eyebrow.

"Fine. "

It takes the longest to tame my hair, and after Mom's struggle, I have long black hair cascading down my back.

"That looks fine," I comment and turn around. Mom hands me the heels.

I am not a big fan of high heels, but you gotta wear what you gotta wear.

After I put them on, I stand up and do a twirl in front of the mirror.

"I think I look fine," I comment.

"Oh, honey, you look more than fine," Mom replies, with a smile that crinkles her eyes.

I think I am forgetting something. I am forgetting something.

"What am I forgetting?" I mumble to myself. I look down at the stuff I have in front of me. All beauty products are scattered all around. I don't see anything that I have forgotten to use.

"Mom, what do you think I'm forgetting?"

I ask Mom because yesterday, I gave her a briefing on my master plan about my costume and my makeup, which was supposed to be jaw dropping.

I don't look jaw dropping.

I look at mom. Her eyes flash for a moment. Then she shakes her head. "Nope, you are not forgetting anything. Let's go downstairs."