by Young, M. L.
I actually looked…nice. My hair was straight, cut at the shoulders, and my mane wasn’t a mane any longer. I didn’t have split ends or an afro that would get so frizzy, especially in the summer, that it would be attracted to the static on balloons. I didn’t know that I could manage it in this exact way, since Antoine was an expert and I really didn’t want to spend twenty minutes on my hair every day, but it was something to try for Blake. He was, after all, the reason I was here.
“What do you think?” Antoine asked.
“I love it. I think it looks really nice,” I said.
“A great masterpiece from what you came in like. I feel as if I just brought out your inner beauty and helped polish the diamond in the rough you truly are. I mean, look at those cheekbones, girl! You should be on a runway,” Antoine said.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, smiling.
“Well, Jeanette will be taking you for waxing, now. Then you’ll have makeup and nails at the same time,” Antoine said.
“Sounds good,” I said, as I played along even though I wished I could go home and get in my sweats.
A few minutes later Jeanette, a shorter Asian woman wearing all black, came and took me down a narrow hallway and into a dim room with rainforest music playing. There was a distinct sandalwood smell, though not overpowering. A long padded table lay in the middle of the room with clean white linens on top.
“I hope you have had a wonderful time so far,” Jeanette said, in a soft, calming voice. “I am going to start with your eyebrows, so if you’d please lie back on the table, it would be much appreciated.”
She definitely didn’t have the exuberance that Antoine displayed, and I thought I liked that. She made me feel calm and at peace as the velvety words floated off her tongue and extinguished my anxiety. Either that, or the sandalwood and cricket sounds were doing a number on me.
I’d had my eyebrows done once for my cousin’s wedding a few years ago. I was a bridesmaid and she took us to a place like this, though it wasn’t nearly as nice and fancy. They did our brows and even had trouble getting the paper strip off her face, which left a huge red mark she wasn’t too happy about, especially when she got the pictures back.
Jeanette used a Popsicle stick to spread a little bit of warm wax onto my brow. I kept my eyes closed, though I could feel her hovering over me. She placed a cloth strip over the wax, rubbed it in well, and then, without warning, ripped it off. I flinched, gripping my hands together into fists, as she kept spreading the wax and ripping it off. If I had this much of an issue up there, how in the hell was I going to get through down there? Maybe I should call that bit off. I’d like to keep my bits, after all.
“Okay, I’m done with your brows. Next I’ll be moving to your bikini line. Would you like a Brazilian or full wax?” she asked.
“What do you suggest?” I asked, panicked.
“Most of my clients these days do the full wax. It’s our most popular,” she said.
“I was actually thinking of not doing it altogether. It’s a little nerve-wracking,” I said.
“Don’t be scared. I’ve done this thousands of times and know how to relieve any pain or discomfort. I promise it’s a great experience and you won’t regret it. You won’t have to shave for a while, either, which is nice,” she said.
I did hate shaving every bit of hair I had to shave as a woman. It was one of the great banes of my existence, and I guess I was focused more on the prospective pain of the waxing than the benefits that came with it. Maybe I should just give it a go. After all, what was the worst that could happen?
“Okay, I’ll do the full, I guess,” I said.
“Excellent. I’m going to get the wax ready, so if you would, please take off your pants and panties and we’ll get started,” she said, turning around and going back to her station with all of her supplies.
I rolled upwards as all of the blood rushed to my head, before hopping off the table and taking my pants off. I felt a little strange, like I was trying for her not to see me, even though she was about to see all of me. I got undressed, got back on the table, and with my legs closed, lay there while she tinkered around with her tools.
She brought over a cart of supplies before putting on some gloves and starting. I opened my legs before feeling the warm wax against my sensitive skin. I kept my eyes closed, focused on my breathing, and prayed for the absolute best.
“Here we go,” she said, in a soothing voice.
She waxed it all, with me wincing in pain after each pull of the waxing strips. I ground my teeth together as I wished and wished for it to be over, convincing myself each and every time that this was the final rip and it would all be over. Many of those thoughts were wrong, but the final one was right, and as she said she was done, I let out an audible sigh and wiped the sweat from my forehead.
I got up and dressed as fast as I could while she cleaned up and put her things away. We walked out and she guided me to another room, a large one, where there was a footbath below the seat and two women standing and smiling at me.
“Hello, I’m Jessica, your makeup artist,” Jessica said.
“I’m Chanel, and I’ll be doing your nails,” Chanel said.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Penelope,” I said awkwardly.
“If you’d have a seat, we’ll get started,” Jessica said.
I sat down and Chanel gave me a selection of about ten different nail polishes to choose from. I wasn’t a flashy girl, so I didn’t want something too bright and out there. She suggested a nude shade, which looked good to me. She also said it was in style, so that was a plus, I guess.
“What I have here is an all-natural, non-drying cleansing cloth. This will remove any dirt, oil, makeup, and anything else that may be on your face right now. It will allow us to have a clean foundation for your makeup today,” Jessica said.
She wiped the cloth all over my face as I held my breath and closed my eyes. She wasn’t shy about digging into creases and holding the back of my head as she really scrubbed to get everything away. I was afraid there were going to be patches of my skin left on the cloth afterwards.
Chanel put my feet in the soaking tub as she started on my fingernails. I felt her pruning and clipping as Jessica smeared a bunch of gooey makeup all over my face like I was about to have the starring role in a blockbuster movie. I didn’t say anything, though, as I fought through the discomfort and just let them do their thing so this would be over as soon as possible.
Chanel got done with my hands and told me not to touch anything so they could dry right. I kept my palms firmly on the arms of the chair as Jessica stared at me while rubbing makeup all over my face. I knew this was it, though, and all I had to do was get through this little part and then I’d be home-free. I could do this.
After another twenty minutes, mostly because of my feet, they were both done, and looked at me with a smile. I wondered what I looked like. They spun me around just like Antoine did, and as Jessica grabbed the chair to spin me around, I felt a string of nerves come over me.
“Here you are, Penelope. The new you,” Jessica said.
I looked at myself with shock, as I saw a girl looking back at me who didn’t look like me. I couldn’t even say much of anything as I moved forward and looked at myself closer. I looked…beautiful. Really, I did. I wasn’t overdone, didn’t look like I sat in a tanning booth for two hours from the bronzer, and my new hair perfectly matched it all. I brought up my hands, looking at them, and I finally realized I looked truly girlie for once. I wasn’t sure it was something I’d always wanted—I wasn’t Nicolette, after all—but hell, I’d take it every now and then, just maybe not as intense as today had been. I supposed I could rock a smoky eye occasionally, though.
“Thank you so much,” I said, as I tried to find the right words to say.
“You look so beautiful,” Chanel said.
“Yeah, your boyfriend is a lucky man,” Jessica said.
“Thank you,” I said, smiling, going along with w
hat they said.
“You look fabulous, honey,” Antoine said, as he walked into the room.
“You did amazing work on her hair, Antoine,” Jessica said.
“What can I say? I do miracles, baby,” Antoine said, as he flipped his hair.
I sat there smiling as they traded little jabs and compliments before Antoine put his hand on my shoulder and looked at me in the mirror.
“Your personal shopper is here, honey. She said she’s here to take you out for some new clothes,” Antoine said.
“So lucky!” Chanel said in excitement.
I had forgotten all about the shopping session. I guessed I’d sat in this place so long wishing I could stop the pain that I didn’t think of the other pain that was about to come my way. I couldn’t back out of it either, especially with her supposedly standing out there waiting for me. Maybe I could just say yes to everything she suggested for me. That would work well. I knew that most women would die for this opportunity, especially when the tab wasn’t coming from their bank accounts, but shopping just never was my thing. Who knew, though, maybe I wouldn’t hate it as much as I usually did. I didn’t hate this salon thing as much as I thought I would now that I’d seen what I looked like.
I got up from the chair and the girls gave me big, strong hugs before I followed Antoine out into the lobby, where my stylist was waiting. She clapped as she saw me, even though I was positive she hadn’t see me before I came in here, and shook my hand.
“My name is Katie, and I’ll be your stylist and personal shopper today. I’ll be taking you to a variety of stores right near here so we can find you a few great outfits for your dates. If you’re ready we can get going,” she said, with a cheerful, chipper tone.
“Bye, doll. Have a great trip!” Antoine said.
The rest of the staff who were standing up front waved and smiled as Katie and I walked out onto the sidewalk and down towards the first store, wherever it might be.
“You look beautiful, by the way. They really did a great job,” Katie said, as we walked down the street.
“Thank you. I really like your top,” I said.
“Thank you! I love it so much. I think you and I are going to get along great,” she said.
I gave that kind of awkward laugh and smile that you give when you meet a friend of your parents and they tell you how they remember you when you were two feet tall. You never really know what to say to the person or how to respond, but you go along with it and just say yeah as you smile awkwardly and hope the pain will stop. My time with Katie was like that already, and we hadn’t even stepped foot into a store.
“Okay, here’s our first stop,” she said, as we walked into a smaller boutique-like store.
A little bell rang overhead as the woman behind the counter came out to greet us. She hugged Katie, who must’ve been a friend, before shaking my hand and introducing herself as Cheryl. The shop wasn’t very large, probably the size of my apartment, if that, though it was filled with frilly, feminine clothes from wall to wall. There was a dress on a mannequin situated up on some kind of pedestal not too far behind Cheryl, who was busy gabbing with Katie, who just flung it right back. I caught a glimpse of the price tag, which was retro-looking with black marker, and saw that it was three thousand dollars. I nearly choked. What in the hell was it made of? Extinct animals? Was it just unearthed from ancient Egypt or something? There was no way anybody in their right mind would pay that much for a dress.
“Well, we have a lot in stock right now. Have anything in mind?” Cheryl asked Katie.
“I think we’re going to just look around and see what will work for her,” Katie said with a smile.
“Okay! Let me know if you need anything,” Cheryl said, before walking into the back.
“Okay, Penny, I want to find a few pieces for you that will work in a variety of situations. This will be more for everyday clothes and day dates—nothing during the night. I’m saving that store for later. Is there anything in here you see that grabs your eye?” Katie asked.
I looked around, walking a little, and found a yellow and grey top I thought looked close enough to what I’d wear. Katie looked at it with a sour face before picking up another top near it and holding it against my front.
“Now this. This is great on you. We’ll save this,” she said.
“What about the one I picked?” I asked, looking back at it.
“I just don’t think it will work well with your complexion. It will drown you out too much. Besides, it’s last season,” she said.
Last season? What in the hell did that mean? I had a feeling that anything I picked out wouldn’t quite be good enough for Katie and her all-seeing eye of style. After all, I was the frumpy chick who obviously wore other seasons and couldn’t distinguish a crop top from a cardigan.
Katie went around the store grabbing everything she could find before coming back towards me with a mountain of fabric she couldn’t even see over.
“I’m going to put this stuff in the dressing room. Why don’t you start trying on what I lay out for you?” she asked.
She was in there for about five minutes before coming out and letting me in. I walked in to see outfits strung together as they hung on hangers from steel hooks on the walls. There was only a curtain for a door, which I found peculiar. I grabbed the first outfit on my right and got into it. There was a mirror in the dressing room and I looked at myself before showing Katie, who was hollering at me from outside.
Was this me? Sure, I looked nice, and sure, Blake would like it, but I felt like somebody else. I wasn’t sure if it was the makeup, hair, nails, and outfit together, but this was more Nicolette and less Penny. I looked like the mean girls who used to bully me in high school. Well, I wasn’t calling Nicolette a mean girl, but yeah, I was sure those mean girls would envy me right now.
I walked out to Katie, who turned around from the racks of clothes she was searching before she put her hands to her face and gasped happily.
“You look so good. Wow, just wow,” she said, clapping a little.
“I’m not sure about it,” I said.
“What’s wrong with it? It fits you perfectly,” she said.
“It’s just not…me,” I said.
“Well, that’s why we’re here today, Penny. To get you some new clothes and broaden your horizons to different clothes and looks that you maybe wouldn’t have ever tried before. They’re only clothes. They aren’t permanent. I say give them a chance and then if you really don’t like them, you don’t have to wear them any longer. What will it hurt?” she asked.
I looked at myself in the mirror again, really looked at myself, and figured that she was right, in a sense. They were just clothes and it wasn’t like I was getting a tattoo or something. I could just donate them to Nicolette if I really hated them.
Katie took me through a few more stores before I had about seven shirts, five pairs of pants, two dresses, and a new pair of shoes that went with the gala dress I got in advance. I hugged her goodbye, which was her idea, not mine, and Gustav took me back to my place, where I grabbed everything and struggled to get up the stairs to my apartment, which just had to be up five flights of stairs. I was really regretting that living situation now.
Nicolette wasn’t home when I got back, which was probably good because now I wouldn’t have to model more clothes for her like I had to for Katie. I could stuff them in my closet and never say a word. It was great.
After shoving everything away, I lay back on my bed, unbuttoned my pants, and listened to the deafening sound of traffic outside, as I finally felt calm and not pressured for the first time today. Never again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Penelope
Days had passed since my last encounter with Blake, and I was starting to think I missed him. We’d had plans for tonight, but he had to cancel for a last-minute trip to Seattle for business. I was lucky it was Saturday, though, and Nicolette was home all day with me.
She freaked out when she saw my new
look and made me tell her step-by-step everything that happened at the salon. She sat there with a pillow in her lap, so jealous that I got the full treatment. She even wanted me to show her my waxing because she was thinking of getting one and wanted to see what it looked like. I very firmly said no to that request. I hadn’t been able to get my hair exactly like Antoine had, which I guessed was to be expected because he was a professional and the only thing I was a pro at was stuffing twenty marshmallows in my mouth within a minute.
Nicolette had been showing me some makeup tips before she went out a couple nights this past week. She didn’t actually do anything to me, only to herself, but I watched her and tried to figure out how to make myself actually presentable. I was hoping it would prove useful for the gala dinner, which wasn’t too far away.
I wasn’t quite sure what a gala even was, but I knew from Blake it would involve a bunch of important people who were all dressed up and you had to mingle with them to make appearances. It was the same thing I had to do back home growing up when I wanted to stay home and my dad had a work party, but I wasn’t allowed to because they wanted to give a good impression of the family. I guessed the difference was that I’d be mingling with powerful businessmen and politicians instead of Stan Grubunski, the mattress king of northern Illinois.
“Blake is out of town, right?” Nicolette asked as she stood in my doorway.
I had told her about my times with Blake, even though I downplayed it a little and tried not to go too in-depth about it all. I knew I could trust her and that she wouldn’t even bother telling any coworkers for fear of losing her own job if someone blabbed and Blake found out. Not only that, but it would risk what I had with Blake and she didn’t want to do that to me.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“So you’re free for dinner?” she asked.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
“Sushi?” she asked.
“Sounds good. I’ll start getting ready soon,” I said.
My bank account had started to grow, well, stay stagnant, as I didn’t have to worry about paying for anything. It hadn’t been that long, but Blake had groceries bought, paid my rent and my upcoming tuition, and even gave me a few hundred dollars for spending money—and that was on top of the clothes and makeover. I still felt a little leery about it all, but Nicolette said it was nothing different than what the women who married these types of guys did. They married rich guys, never worked a day, and just spent their husbands’ money like it was going out of style. I wasn’t anywhere near there, but it kind of put my mind at ease a bit.