It hadn’t been a thing since the 00s. Think: Lindsay Lohan as Cady Heron applying lip gloss in Mean Girls. Or Paris Hilton on any given day of the week. But apparently, like so many other trends from that decade, blow job lips were back. At least if one was going by the Gen Z receptionist at Malena’s dermatology office. At first, Malena thought that such a venue would be the last place she might encounter the revival of the blow job lip. But then, when she thought about it, it made sense. Because where else besides a dermatology office would be so concerned with skin aesthetics? Right down to the very important detail of lips, often the most underlooked and undervalued part of the skin…at least when it, er, came to one’s face. 

The receptionist, if that word is still allowed to be used (if not, go with “front desk assistant”), seemed to know damn well what she was doing with her lips, too. Puckering them out at select clients as though she might actually get tipped for her “services” or something. Malena knew she oughtn’t let herself be bothered by it, that a psychologist would probably accuse her of being “jealous” of this woman’s confidence. Except she wasn’t really a woman, was she? But rather, stuck between that odd phase Britney Spears spoke so eloquently about on “I’m Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman.” A song that this receptionist, whose name was Lara, would likely have no recognition of. In fact, were it not for Spears’ conservatorship debacle being in the news cycle ad nauseam these past few years, Lara probably wouldn’t know who she was at all. 

This was the type of thing that always irritated Malena about Gen Z. A generation that had more access to information than anyone before them, yet seemed to have no idea how to truly access it. Not beyond their own limiting algorithms, anyway. But maybe Lara’s algorithm had managed to show her some key scenes from Mean Girls (especially since her generation was trying to take false ownership over that film with its recent undesirable reboot). Ones that pretty much always paraded the Plastics rocking pronounced blow job lips. 

Of course, some make the mistake of thinking that “blow job lips” mean possessing the sort of upper and lower edges of the mouth that are “good” for giving head (though, of course, a man will tell you that any pair of lips will do, so long as there’s a tongue behind them to suck). But no, it means having lips with the sort of visible glossy sheen on them that makes it appear as though cum is all over that particular stratified squamous epithelium. Dermatology-speak for “lips.” For that’s what this particular part of the skin is composed of. Unfortunately, in salaciously accenting this part of herself, Lara was careless with her application of the “sheer” lip gloss. Perhaps it was some medicated or “infused” varietal she wanted to sell on behalf of the dermatologist, Dr. Benter, by demonstrating how “wonderful” it looked on her. On the average clientele of the dermatology office—that is to say, sixty and over—that likely wouldn’t be the case. The effect surely wouldn’t be the same. But anyway, she had applied it sloppily, blatantly crossing the line of her vermilion border. As though she didn’t care at all. So much for “successfully representing the business.” 

Malena couldn’t imagine there was anything intentional in how Lara had put it on. Maybe she just had a case of bad lighting in the office’s bathroom mirror and couldn’t see as well as she thought she did. A part of Malena wanted to inform her of her misapplication, but she knew that would have been wrong. Condescending. Not only that, but it would make her come across as some scandalized “old lady,” though she wasn’t even in her forties yet. But, as Malena had come to learn repeatedly through her various unwanted dealings with Gen Z, they all seemed to think anyone over twenty-five was “old.” It’s like they were an army of Jean-Luc Godards. For it was he who fed the line to Anna Karina, “I think women should never be more than twenty-five.” Logan’s Run (the book version) took it one step further by mandating everyone’s “extermination” at the age of twenty-one. Everyone plods along with such ageist perspectives, of course, until the unthinkable happens, and they end up exceeding the age they never thought they could possibly arrive at. Because it really does seem so impossible when you’re that young. No matter what any of the “olds” try to tell you, try to warn you about. 

Malena felt like she was being warned at that very instant, surrounded by all the elderly “customers” coming to see about their squamous cell carcinomas. None of them seemed to be there for non-health related reasons. Their business was a matter of cancer, hers was a matter of aesthetics, which entailed getting a consultation about her best options for removing the hyperpigmentation that had cropped up on her skin (should she opt for a laser treatment or a cream that would make her epidermis feel like it was burning off?). Of course, Dr. Benton felt obliged to make her feel just as old as the grays in the waiting room by telling her that hyperpigmentation usually comes “with age.” Fucker, she thought. He can see right on my goddamn chart that I’m not “aged.” But she supposed that, compared to “Blow Job Lips Lara,” she was. And that was only going to intensify in a few more years. 

These revelations were making her want to hyperventilate as she waited for Dr. Benton to return with his recommended cream treatment (the laser was much too far out of her price range). That desire was compounded by the poster for “dimpleplasty” on the wall next to her. Just one of many “all the rage” trends in cosmetic surgery lately. A trend, it seemed, that dermatology had embraced thanks to Ariana Grande. Suddenly, women wanted to have a “cute,” “little” dimple like the chanteuse, foolishly believing it would make them look as youthful as she “miraculously” did (the only “miracle” being she was still actually young…and also had money to invest in top-of-the-line skin care). In fact, Malena was starting to feel foolish enough herself to want one right then. 

Interrupting her visions of manufactured dimples, Lara entered the exam room in place of Dr. Benton, carrying with her a small, oh so small, jar of white cream in her hand. She puckered her lips (likely an unconscious affectation now) and said, “Dr. Benton told me to give you the rundown on how this works. He had to see another patient, so I hope you don’t mind.” What was Malena going to say? That she very much minded and wanted to smack Lara’s overglossed kisser right off her smug, unpigmented face? Of course not. That wouldn’t be “decorous.” Not that Gen Z knew anything about that word. 

“Sure, no problem,” Malena lied.

Lara proceeded to give her a one-line instruction about how to use the brightening agent. Which seemed like far too little information for such a product. Didn’t she have some disclaimers? Don’t use it with certain kinds of other products? Apply it to only one part of your face? Hell, something beyond just, “Okay, so you’re gonna put this on once a night.” That was it. That’s all she had to say about it. Incompetent git! Malena wanted to scream. But then remembered she wasn’t in Britain and also how that, too, would be an indecorous thing to say. 

As Lara started to scamper out the door, leaving Malena totally blindsided, she stopped before opening it and thought to add, “We also sell this really effective lip product that might help with your dark upper lip line…” More thinly-veiled criticism about Malena’s hyperpigmentation. The fucking nerve! She knew she was at the dermatologist’s, but this was starting to feel less like “concern,” and more like an outright attack. Swallowing her anger, Malena simply nodded. But then, as Lara really went to open the door this time, she decided to shout, “Unlike you, I don’t need blow job lips! I actually give great head!” It was also at that precise moment that Dr. Benton walked back in to double check on things. 

Weeks later, no one was more surprised than Malena to find that she was making good on her shouted testimonial using none other than Dr. Benton himself to prove what she had said. As an added bonus, Lara had been fired. It was Malena’s unspoken wish (spoken aloud after sucking Benton off). Better still, Malena no longer needed to worry about paying for the inevitable refills she would require for her brightening cream. Which just goes to show that the direct approach of verbal declarations continues to work more effectively than the “subtle direct” approach of blow job lips.