Your girlfriend tourns back to you, her glittering red lips in a wide smile. "What do you think?"
"It looks great," you say, "that glitter glaze really makes your mouth sparkle. But I think you missed a spot."
"I did?" our girlfriend looks like she's trying to frown, but her lips are still smiling.
"Your nose." You tap your own. "You got some on it."
"But I didn't put any-." Your girlfriend walks over to the nearby mirror." Hee hee, I guess I did, hee hee," she giggles.
Still looking in the mirror, your girlfriend licks the end of her finger and wipes at the red on her nose. "It-it's not coming off," she says. She looks back at you. "It's spreading all over my nose!"
"And it's getting bigger," you add; her nose is growing and inflating into a perfect red sphere. "How are you doing it?"
"I'm not doing it!" Your girlfriend's voice is now higher, almost like she's breathing helium. She runs over to where she put down the lipstick and reads on the side. "Glitter glaze clown," she says, hen looks at you, the horror on her face undeniable despite her smile, which is stretching halfway down to her chin. Her eyebrows disappear, replaced by black arches high on her forehead, and her complexion is getting paler. "Oh my God; he he, this lipstick is turning me into a clown!"