I’m getting the weirdest looks from my neighbors these days — from strangers too. Clerks at the store, cab drivers, the folks in the drive-thru line: they all look at me like I’m crazy. It’s double takes and long, staring glances and mutterings behind my back, and it’s all for the simplest reason. My face is painted blue and white. And it’s gonna stay that way.
You see, I joined the eRupption zone at Rupp arena. Those die-hard Kentucky fans welcomed me in; they taught me cheers; they painted my face. And, frankly, I liked it. One half is blue, and one is white.
Some would say I have two faces. One blindingly bright, incandescent, shining – White. The other moody, brooding, shaded, even melancholic — Blue. They say I have two faces, but I’d say I have one face — Blue and White. One face of two colors — all Kentucky. Is this too much poetry and rhapsodizing for a simple face-painting job? The long answer is “No, there isn’t enough poetry in the world to describe how it felt to be ritually accepted into that deafeningly loud tribe. It was transcendent.” But the short answer is “Yes.” So enough with all the fluff already.
Like I said, people are staring. And it’s all because I’m happily wearing makeup. Well, stare all you want, Kid-Who-Keeps-Crying-In-The-Parking-Lot-Because-His-Brother-Stole-His-Action-Figure-While-Mom-Wasn’t-Looking. Take a good look, Guy-At The-Coffee-Shop-Who-Ordered-Steamed-Cider-Without-Any-Caramel. I’m proud of how I look.
And when this makeup starts to crack and dry up; when it peels off and fades, I know where to go to get a touch-up. I know where my own personal makeup artists live. They live in a special world behind the basket where no one is judged because they wear too much makeup, only because they wear too little. Until then, keep an eye out. I’m sure you’ll find me. I’m pretty distracting.
P.S. What’s the best costume you’ve ever worn?