Kiss Me

Sure, I have my wit and fabulous personality, but flip that coin around, and I am also a single, potentially barren, soon-to-be-bald-very-pleasant-28-year-old-lady undergoing chemotherapy for a cancer with no cure.

So, I can’t imagine there is a queue of people out there waiting to kiss me, and by kiss, I mean the French kind. Immune system dependent.

Currently, and until such point when some brainy Medical People find a cure, I am not a catch. I am coming to terms with this fact, so I am happy for somebody to settle. I can bake.

Thus, to help speed the settling along and to take the attention away from the soon-to-be-bald-head, I have purchased a lot of lipstick to make my lips look luscious. Luscious. I have good lips. Full. Especially the bottom one. They will become my defining feature when my head is bald and my skin is pale. Make-up companies should actually think about targeting cancer patients. My lips could be in the advert. Hmmm, Emma’s Lips.

Hence, below is a photograph of my new lipsticks, which coincidently is the purpose of this post. I am genuinely excited about these. Only My Myeloma could justify buying five MAC lipsticks plus a primer, so good one Myeloma. You have doubled my lipstick collection. I think my red one is going to get jealous… Actually he’s already jealous because I was kindly given a more expensive, brighter red one the other day.

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Yes, there is a brown one in there. I live in Dalston.

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