on the F train

This morning, I found myself strangely mesmerized by a woman across the car from me. She caught my eye at 4th Avenue in Brooklyn, putting on powder so vigorously, I couldn't actually tell if she was putting it on or wiping it off. She continued, applying blush with a brush that she methodically dipped in the color, then brushed off on her jeans and blew through. Then she sucked in her cheeks like a fish and applied the blush, looking confusedly at her reflection in the hand mirror. I can't imagine she actually applied any color, after all of that methodical blowing. She bravely used an eyelash curler on a moving train and even brought out little eyebrow scissors, snipping carefully and then grinning like a maniac to check the shape. (This is when I almost laughed outloud at her.) I imagined her handbag actually contained the contents of a little surgical tray. I mean, she even brought out a little pencil sharpener. Eyebrow liner, lip liner, and lip gloss were also applied.

She didn't finish until West 4th street in Manhattan.