First impressions

I think I have one of those faces. The type that silently seeks opinion from anyone in the vicinity, unassumingly inviting them to opine - and they do. On the train home this evening one of a group in my carriage, who'd engaged a few of us in friendly and amusing banter, opined that he liked my hat, a few minutes later he appreciated my handbag and then moved on to express his admiration of my eye-liner. I thanked him on each occasion, raising an eyebrow and questioned his unquestionable sexuality, and then sat in dread, anticipating his next observation.

I can't remember the first time it happened, I'd venture it was around 14 years ago. The frequency ebbs and flows, and with age has morphed into a more subtle, unspoken appreciation - unless of course the commentator feels they have secured my confidence (or are just plain stupid), in which case they happily, and mostly disappointingly go for the jugular. Somewhat sadly, I have now become immune to it, almost bored by the lack of originality, and consistently irritated with the blatant lack of manners. I say sadly as when a lover clearly, and so seductively appreciates it, it should be a moment to enjoy, to savour, to take advantage of, not one to wince at.

I've had all sorts, none of which impress me but are all variations on the same theme: I have a lovely mouth. I've lost count of the number of times men have stood next to me at the bar and matter-of-factly informed me that I have a fantastic mouth for a blow job and then casually continued to order their drink, the men who have sidled up to me and leered that they know with a mouth like mine I'd give them a great blow job, and the women who just tell me that they'd kill for lips like mine. I think I've heard every version, and seen every type of look.

They're not too big, not too small, plump, a good size with a great shape and a tendency to gently pout when left to do their own thing. Of all of the ways one could make a first impression I've learnt to accept that my mouth, smiling, pouting, or otherwise, is a large part of how I do it. Amusingly I've also learned to recognise when I can induce a colleague into losing their train of thought by a seemingly innocent but necessary application of lip-gloss - and just in case that gives the wrong impression of me it means any variation on the themes: 'I'm bored now', 'stop talking to me', 'go away' ;-)

It seems irrelevant now, but the chap on the train didn't mention them after all, though he did venture to ask if I was a dominatrix - something to do with the way I slowly pulled on my elbow length leather gloves apparently.