An Open Letter to the Person Who Will One Day Do My Hair and Make-Up When I’m Lying in a Coffin

 

I’m told my soul will leave my body; I wish I could say the same for the hair on my face. Please do not be alarmed if I arrive with Elvis sideburns, Groucho Marx’s eyebrows, Billy Gibbons’s beard and Burt Reynold’s mustache. You have my permission to wax these sexy beasts from my profile and take a before and after photo for your portfolio. You are allowed to share these photos with close friends in a WhatsApp group, but not on social media.

Please do not give me penciled eyebrows. I went to high school with a girl who penciled her eyebrows. She looked surprised all the time. This has scarred me ever since.

I prefer dark attire. I have spent most of my life wearing black to hide sweat marks and red wine stains. I’m fine with a black t-shirt and jeans or if you really want to go all out, I’ve always been a fan of Madonna’s pantsuit in her Vogue music video.

Keep my hair parted in the middle, but then run your hand through it to flip it.

No lipstick, please. It’s never been my cup of tea.

I’m on the fence about the use of bright blush on my cheeks. On the one hand, I know that it will make me look like a clown, however my mother and grandmother used to wear a lot of blush so I’m thinking I should keep with the family tradition.

I know that people’s hands are always resting on top of each other, but I was hoping you could position them so that I’m giving the peace sign. That way people can say that I died peacefully.

Thanks so much for your help,

Planning Ahead

 

 

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