Since I was a small child, I have been fascinated with pretty things. I remember when I was in dance class, and it would be an hour or two before we were to go on stage. I would sit there nervous from the bun on my head to the bows on my dance shoes. I had nothing to do and I had never produced any friendships with my classmates, so I began observing the older girls. They curled their hair into spirals, and adorned their lips with a deep blue red lipstick. My mom had never been a glamour girl, and this was a new territory for me. These older girls looked so common; with a few adhesives later they had become poised, angelic goddesses. Many people would consider this beauty created superficial; however, has become my definition of philosophical beauty. Who is anyone to deny me the feeling of beauty through a tube of lipstick?