The 'stache

I booked a room for Roller Con 2008 today. I was reminiscing about last year and remembered this reoccurring scenario; on any given day at the convention you could witness some old gambler scrutinizing the back of some roller girl’s fish-netted legs and sweaty tank top with her gratuitous name printed on the back, only to have him jump out of his own skin when she turned around and her accessories included a nose ring and a curly handlebar moustache carefully drawn onto her upper lip. I delighted in watching this little vignette play out several times last year.

Well, this week Ella keeps drawing on her face with marker. She says “Look at my lipstick!” and I turn around to see she’s drawn a circle around her lips with whatever marker or pen she found and because we are writing utensil heavy around here, it’s easy. I’ve given up immediately scrubbing her face off with soap as her skin is so delicate and the weather is so dry her cheeks end up chapped and itchy. And because she’s had a cold we’ve been home for most of last week so mostly I just let her walk around with pen that partially wears off and becomes a little purple moustache on her face and then I secretly crack up all day long every time I look at her. I feel I should add, her father is horrified at this whole production.