Day 27

Day 27, and I give you a play. Tonight we are looking at make up. Oh, yes, I know, it’s so passe to criticize make up. Feminists slather make up all over in the name of being empowered. Yeah. Right. Why do we wear make up? For ourselves? Hardly. We can’t see it. Oh, but it makes us feel better. And why? Yes, because we know other people can. We know we will look feminine and pretty and…whatever. Seriously, I don’t have anything against make up in general; I don’t wear it any more myself. Grew out of that after realizing I had been a trophy wife, not what I wanted, and my ex always wanted me to wear make up. So he was gone, the make up was gone, and I have the skin of a woman much younger than myself. (Don’t say anything; she may want it back).

I have no problem with women doing things that are not feminist; each woman should choose who she wants to be. I only have a beef with it when they try to dress it up in feminist clothes and call it empowerment. Own your own guilty pleasures. I have some of my own, and most make up wearing feminists give me no end of grief for one of my own presumed anti-feminist choices, while carving out room for their own. So tonight, I will have my say.

First, though, five women to mention to anyone who tells you women never accomplished anything:

• Margaret Heafield, Director of software engineering for NASA’s Apollo program, 1969

• Sofia Ionescu-ogrezeanu, Russian neuroscientist

• Komako Kimura, Japanese suffragist

• Hedy Lamarr, Actress and inventor

• Maud Stevens Wagner, first female tattoo artist in the United States

BRANDED
short play

 CAST:

 BRAND X                  Male, slick, urbane, preferably young but if older very suave
BRAND Y                  Male, slick, urbane, preferably young but if older very suave
SHE                            Female, young, 20s – 30s, attractive
WARRIOR                 Female, young to youngish

PLACE:                      Living room of SHE

TIME:                         This morning

SETTING:                  A middle to upper-middle class living room. Nice furnishings. Sofa, coffee table, maybe a TV, fashion magazines.

 AT RISE:                    SHE is lying on the sofa, face down, hands dangling. She is asleep…or is she stoned? It’s hard to tell. Empties surround her – empty perfume bottles, empty nail polish bottles, empty compacts, empty make up cases. She has clearly been on a binge.

 BRAND X enters, moves to couch, tries to rouse SHE. No luck. BRAND Y enters, watches.

 BRAND Y:  It’s no use. She’s out.

BRAND X: Like a light.

BRAND Y: We can’t just leave her like this.

BRAND X and BRAND Y assume poses, talk in artificial, TV commercial voices.

BRAND X: For those days when you just can’t beat the doldrums….Brand X is the answer.

BRAND Y: Brand Y can outperform all competitors, and keep you looking and feeling your best.

BRAND X: Brand X shines where others leave you dull and lifeless.

BRAND Y: Brand Y will never let you down.

 BRAND X and BRAND Y look expectantly at the woman on the sofa; nothing.

BRAND X: Brand X…for those dull days when you feel like you need that extra pick me up.

BRAND Y: Brand Y can cure the worst of all your fears…pimples? No problem. Dull, lifeless hair? Try our shine in a bottle.

BRAND X: When you’re too dull to even get off the sofa/

BRAND Y: Brand Y will give you a reason to get out of bed.

SHE raises a hand, tips up a perfume bottle, discovers it is empty. SHE droops back on sofa.

BRAND X: Looks like she needs some…Brand X.

BRAND Y: Brand Y will get her on her feet.

BRAND X and BRAND Y move to the sofa, each working to make sure the other doesn’t get there first. They lift SHE off the sofa, and walk her between them.

BRAND X: Come on, just keep moving. You’ll be all right.

BRAND Y: You don’t want to go to sleep. That’s the worst thing you can do.

They walk SHE a couple of times around the sofa, then all sit on the sofa, SHE propped between BRAND X and BRAND Y. BRAND X opens a case he is carrying.

BRAND X: This will help.

He applies some make up to SHE. BRAND Y opens an identical case he carries and starts to dab perfume on SHE.

BRAND Y: No one can stay in this condition when Brand Y is around. I won’t hear of it.

They continue to apply make up, perfume, lotions, entire bottles full, dropping the empties to join the ones already cluttering the room.

BRAND X: I think she’s coming around.

BRAND Y: It’s my lipstick.

BRAND X: No, it’s my powder.

SHE: Where…where am I? What…what…happened?

BRAND X: Withdrawal. Delirium tremens.

BRAND Y: Don’t worry, we’re experts. See it all the time.

SHE: Am I…dead?

BRAND X: Not now. You might be if we hadn’t gotten here in time.

BRAND Y: That face! And that hair!

BRAND X and BRAND Y shudder.

SHE:  I remember! I was applying my make up…I had a date.

BRAND X: You overdosed.

SHE: No. I was…out.

BRAND X and BRAND Y gasp.

BRAND Y: No!

BRAND X: We saved you. You look…

BRAND X and BRAND Y: Beautiful.

SHE: Where’s my mirror?

BRAND Y: Here you are, dear, you can borrow mine.

SHE: Oh, I look so much better. I think…I’ll be okay now. Thank you, my heroes!

WARRIOR enters.

WARRIOR: I thought I’d find you here.

BRAND X: You!

BRAND Y: Get out. This one’s ours.

WARRIOR: You can’t have her…I’m going to save her.

SHE: I don’t want to be saved.

WARRIOR: Of course you don’t. No one does in the throes of addiction. But you’ll thank me one day.

SHE: Get out of my apartment. I like them. I want them.

BRAND X and BRAND Y start to offer her perfume, lotions, make up, all sorts of products. She examines and selects product after product, handing over large sums of money and dabbing her face with different products until she looks like a clown.

BRAND Y: You are truly beautiful.

BRAND X: You can thank Brand X.

BRAND Y: Brand Y!

BRAND X: Brand X. She’s lucky she survives at all using Brand Y.

Shoving ensues, then a wrestling match.

WARRIOR: Disgusting.

SHE: I think they’re sort of cute.

WARRIOR: Not them. You.

SHE: Me? What’s wrong with me?

WARRIOR: Look at all those empty bottles…I’ll bet there are more in the kitchen.

WARRIOR exits to kitchen. Sound of large pile of bottles tumbling and breaking. WARRIOR reenters.

WARRIOR: It’s like a war zone in there…how many have you had today?

SHE: I don’t know. I lost count.

WARRIOR: We need to get you some help.

SHE: I’m fine. I don’t need anyone.

WARRIOR: Of course you do. You just don’t realize it. Wait until you hit bottom.

SHE continues to daub and apply, getting faster and faster as the need increases. SHE starts to moan, clutches her stomach. SHE collapses. WARRIOR checks her pulse. Grabs a compact and passes it under her nose. SHE comes to just as BRAND X pins BRAND Y.

SHE: You saved me!

BRAND X: Always glad to help.

SHE: Not you. She saved me! That was brave action!

WARRIOR: It was nothing. Really.

SHE: I’m…so ashamed. I’ve become…dependent.

WARRIOR: You must wean yourself off.

SHE: I can’t do it alone.

WARRIOR: I’ll get you help. I know a good support group.

SHE: Cosmetics Anonymous? I tried that.

WARRIOR: I have more intensive therapy in mind.

WARRIOR exits, returns with a bottle of cold cream and a wash cloth.

WARRIOR: Here. Let’s get you cleaned up.

BRAND X

No! She’s mine!

WARRIOR: You’ve been supplying her habit long enough. Get lost.

BRAND Y: We can’t let her do this to us…

BRAND X: Get her!

BRAND X and BRAND Y rush WARRIOR, emery boards extended. They break on her armor. WARRIOR grabs one in each hand and ties them together.

WARRIOR: You don’t have to worry about them anymore.

SHE: I’m…afraid.

WARRIOR: Your journey will not be easy.

SHE: Will you stay beside me?

WARRIOR: I’ll always be there for you. Draw on my strength.

SHE: I’m so glad you arrived in time.

WARRIOR: Just doing my job.

WARRIOR and SHE start to exit, SHE holding onto WARRIOR.

SHE: But…won’t I look ugly?

END OF PLAY