As my father drove us to church, I kept my burning lips glued to the Ford's ice-cold passenger window. She snapped open her purse and plopped a tube of lip balm in my hand. At first I was puzzled a here was something that looked like the very thing that got me in trouble in the first place. Nevertheless, I applied this ointment and awaited its healing powers. Miraculously, it soon took a bit of the sting out of my lips.
Praise be to lip balm.
I can't go out my front door without first tapping my left pants pocket for a Chap Stick check. Whenever caught deep in the throes of moisture-free lips, my modus operandi for applying Chap Stick is eight quick dabs, as opposed to one big swipe, every 20 minutes. This economical approach avoids needless waste and a potential overdose, plus it makes the tube last longer. In this age of spiked cigarettes, boozy cough syrups and jazzed java joints, it's not unheard of for someone to admit an addiction to any one particular substance. I don't know what I would do if the Food and Drug Administration ever classified lip balm as an illegal substance.