Hello guys! It's Margo! All My Life is in hiatus since I am busy writing my thesis story. But to compensate, I will publish my prewritten work. This story is very dear to my heart because this is really my way of writing. I love it light, humorous, and happy. Enjoy!
The story is set in Christmas season.
Chapter 1
The older you get the less exciting birthdays become. What's the big fuss anyway? It's not like the world's going to change just because you turned a year older.
As I walk to my salon, my eyes can't help but look around the winter streets of New York. It's still pretty much the same although I just turned twenty-nine years old. Actually, twenty-nine isn't a bad number, right? It's not like you're going to be thirty the next day.
Okay, I admit it. I can't help but stress over my turning thirty in the next year. I don't know. It's just that it's a number I view as part of the "prophecies about me" list when I was in high school. Number 30 used to be just a number. Number 30 used to be a far vision. Number 30 used to be the age I know I'll be a great career and family woman at the same time.
The truth is it's already 365 days away and I've got the career woman title but I am nowhere near the family woman area.
My attention shifts to my salon. Why is it closed? That's really suspicious.
I go to the salon by 7:30 which is thirty minutes before the 8:00 a.m. opening time. The staff is supposed to come earlier than I am as they prepare all the tools and make sure that there is no hint of dust on any surface. Right now it's really weird as the salon is too dark. Are there even people inside?
There is no padlock on the glass door and my heartbeat accelerates as I suspect that we've been robbed. Oh no! I unconsciously recall my Jiu Jitsu moves since I took up self defense class ten years ago.
As I enter the salon ready to kick some butts, the lights turn on and they are too blinding for my eyes. There they are: my staffs! They are all wearing party hats. There are balloons everywhere you look and even confetti starts to fall like I've won or something. They are holding a three layered yellow cake. I'm guessing it's a lemon flavored one. Around them are "Happy Birthday" posters.
"Happy Birthday, Ana!" They all greet cheerfully.
I'm supposed to be happy. I should appreciate this but everywhere I look there is the number 30! I cannot contain it anymore. Do I really look thirty to them? What have I done? Suddenly I become conscious! Are my hair strands turning grey? Am I becoming wrinkly? Why is it that I look a year older than I already am?
Without hesitations, tears fall freely from my eyes. This has been so overwhelming. All I want to do is go home to Mr. Mittens, my cat and solve the mystery of why I look a year older than my actual age.
After they sing the birthday song, Chico points out, "Look, Ana is crying!"
"Tears of joy!" Leila exclaims.
My tears are overflowing as they come forward so I could blow all the candles on the cake. It is not the number 30 but there are thirty candles in total! I cannot take this anymore. This is enough.
I cry out, "No, these are not tears of joy! Do you think I'm happy that all of you think I'm thirty? I mean it's not like being thirty years old is wrong but I am just twenty-nine! I mean, do I look so old to you?"
Then, the silence follows. None of them are looking at me in the eye. My back is shaking from all the crying. Honestly, I've wanted to cry since I woke up today and these aren't happy tears at all.
When I look up, all of them are glaring at Jose.
Leila angrily shouts at her husband, "Jose, why did you put 30?!"
"She was born in 1988, right?"
"Yes and it is 2017 so that makes her 29!"
"Huh? I did the math and it is 30!"
We all shake our heads at Jose. Leila smacks him hard and he moans in pain. Now, that was a huge spoiler. They all look unhappy and it isn't right.
I wipe my tears away and shake it off. Enough of being a cry baby because it's time to be professional. I ignore my inner problems and regain my professional voice.
My voice just cracked a little, "Team, thank you for your efforts on my birthday. I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate it because I do. Thanks. By the way, we have fifteen minutes until the salon opens so let's wrap things up. Chico, make sure the newly delivered nail polishes are match to what we've ordered yesterday. Leila, please wipe the mirrors one last time. Hannah, make sure that the lavatory is fragrant enough for our guests. Please do make sure that it's freesia scent and Jose?"
He still looks shaken.
"Grab a marker, put an X on all the numbers 30's, and write my real age. Understood?"
I'm glad he finally understands.
I am an accomplished woman. I don't mean to brag but it's the fact. I didn't have the highest scores in school nor did I win an award, but I've always known that there is something special in me. And that is my interest in hairdressing and applying makeup.
All throughout my high school years, I get paid for doing the hairstyle and makeup for my classmates. Prom is the best season as all of the girls in my classroom would pay me just so they will look beautiful. Yes, it's very tiring but at least I earned my own money.
I come from a very humble family. I am an only child but it doesn't mean I get to have everything I want. My parents don't have shiny careers but I always have enough. None of them really believe that I could make it this far.
All the money I've earned in high school was kept instead of spent. Before I knew it, it was more than enough to buy the unused building five minutes away from our apartment. Without much ambition, I bought the two-storied building and did what I do best: hairdressing and makeup.
I will always remember that day when I was standing outside of the building and asked people if they needed a makeover and one of them actually did. I gave it my all. She entered my then unknown salon looking like the ugly duckling and exited looking like a swan. She told all of her friends and everybody just came. It wasn't just customers but applicants as well. The business grew well that I barely had the time to study for college.
When I was 21, I finally earned my diploma for Business and the salon's name is louder than ever. I call it the Metamorphosis Prestige.
Currently, the salon is still famous all over New York as we have at least four hundred fifty customers per day. The first floor is for hair and makeup while the second is for nails. Trust me, it has a relaxing ambiance as fresh plants and abstract paintings are displayed. We also have televisions on each floor and magazines are stacked, intricately checked that they are the latest issues.
Today is kind of different as there are objects reminding everyone that it's my birthday. I swear I have customers greeting me for like a hundred times already.
Mellow chatters are heard and as well as the moderate volume of the television. I roam around the place and it's the familiar things that I find the most appealing to my senses. I see the scissors artfully used by the hairdresser in a vertical cutting line. I hear the screams of the blower as it aims to get the hair dried up. It is excited to see the final look and the customer's reaction. I smell the scent of nail polish as it brings color the surface of someone's boring nails. I touch the backs of my employees, reminding them that they're doing well.
Most of all, I taste the happiness that comes from transformation.
I have employed thirty staffs and sometimes they don't even have time to rest. Among them, I have four which are the closest to me since they've been working with me in the early years of the salon.
Jose. He is one of my three barbers and he's a good one. I don't want the salon to be exclusive for women only. Men deserve to have transformation too. Buzzcut, Crewcut, Ivy League, Caesar Cut, name it! He can do it so well! He's a sweet husband to Leila and a loving father to their twins. I don't think there is anything he's not good at. Oh, there is: Math. He's bad at Math.
Leila. She's Jose's wife and my most remarkable nail artist. If it weren't for her, the salon wouldn't be much of a success. She started working for me when I was twenty and she twenty three. I'll never forget the day she only coated one customer's nails in one day. I almost went mad! We lost customers because they waited for too long. At the end of the day, I almost fainted when I saw how she painted the Taj Mahal in detail on the fingernails of the woman. We earned $300.00 because of it. From that day onwards, we have this special called 'Leila's Nail Art' and everybody books for a nail art day two months prior to the appointment.
Chico. He's one of the greatest hairdressers I have met my whole life. He does foiling at its finest and he gives the best tortoiseshells, which means a gradual shifting of the hair color from dark to light. He gives women the best looks and most of all; he talks to them like they've been close friends their whole lives. No wonder why people come here and ask "Where's Chico?" as soon as they step foot inside.
Hannah. She is the receptionist and I'm glad she finally came out of her shell. She joined the salon seven years ago. She couldn't even say a single word since she's too shy. She wanted to be a manicurist but her hands are too shaky. Instead of letting her go, I asked her to be the salon's receptionist. Little by little, she grew into this confident woman who would smile at anyone who enters the room. She would make them feel welcomed. She has come a long way.
Speaking of Hannah, she rushed to the bathroom so I take her place for a few minutes. A woman and her husband in their 60's come in so I greet, "Good Morning! Welcome to Metamorphosis Prestige! How can we help?"
This is the first time I've seen her so I am very interested.
"Oh dear, I want a haircut."
"What kind of haircut would that be?"
"Like this!" She exclaims while showing the image on her phone to me. She may be in her 60's but she has an iPhone and she loves Rihanna. Okay, she wants Rihanna's Undercut Pompadour hairstyle. It's when the sides are shaved and the hair in the middle is long and spiked. On top of it, when it isn't pointing upwards then it's pretty hard to maintain. Plus, it won't match her face shape which is oval.
"Oh, I see, Ma'am. May I have your name first?"
"It's Julie."
"Okay, Julie, I am Anastasia Steele but you can call me Ana. I can see that you're a big Rihanna fan and you want her hairstyle but may I suggest a better hairstyle which you won't ever regret?"
"What would that be?" She wonders.
"We could cut your hair into a bob. It's just that the layers on the right side would be longer than the left. Basically it's when the other half of your hair will freely flow right between your chin and shoulder while the other is tucked under your ear. It's going to be helpful as it will make your oval-shaped face thin and balanced. On top of it all, Rihanna had that haircut too."
"Oh my goodness! When?!"
"Her Umbrella era," I confirm congratulating myself that I remember that giant hit and her hair.
"I love Umbrella! Ella, Ella, eh, eh, eh, under my umbrella!" Julie sings joyfully while I laugh awkwardly. She doesn't have the best singing voice but at least she's happy.
When she's done singing, I call Chico to inform, "Chico, this is Julie. Julie, this is Grey. He's one of our bests. And Chico, Julie will have the Angled Bob."
She corrects me, "The Rihanna Angled Bob." She emphasizes Rihanna's name.
Chico smiles and leads her to her seat.
I guess that's what I love about this business. It's more than just hairdressing, makeup, and manicure. It is seeing a person develop self-confidence. I just want to be the person who would prove you wrong when you think you're ugly and who would prove you right when you think that you are going to be more beautiful. I want people to believe in their own metamorphosis. That's why it's the name of my salon.
Apart from the metamorphosis, one thing I love about my salon is that it tells me that there so many stories to tell. From the people who come and go, we learn a lot of beautiful tales. There was a man who explored all the forty eight states with his bicycle, a woman who gave up her child for a closed adoption only to have her as a student years later, and an old man who remembers his father's story during the Second World War. There are so many stories to tell and even observations make you feel touched.
Observations such as now when Julie is enjoying her haircut while talking to Chico, her husband sits patiently on the waiting area flipping the pages of Top Gear Magazine. They glance at each other from time to time and I can't help but feel jealous for not having that in my life.
I just want that. Is that too much to ask?
It just hits me that I am not getting any younger. I am not going to be in my twenties forever. I will get older and someday I will cease to exist. Then, the hollowness in my chest expands. It has bugged me for years but since I've been so focused on my salon, I quickly ignored it. Now it can't be ignored. For months I've been coming home to an apartment with no person waiting for me. Don't get me wrong. I do love Mr. Mittens although his poop stinks. I do love hanging out with my friends and taking Instagram-worthy pictures. I do love my salon possibly more than myself.
The eighteen year old me asked myself, "When will you go on a date?" and I will quickly answer, "at twenty-five years old". I turned twenty-five, then twenty-six, then twenty-seven, then twenty-eight, now I'm twenty-nine. Next year, I'll be thirty.
Life passed me by but I won't let it go too far.
This brings me to my newest goal: Find a man I can call my own . . . before the age of thirty.
Find a man who will love me for me, a man who will support my dreams, a man who can pretend that he understands women's beauty products, a man who I'll go home to in the good days or bad, a man who'll never get mad when my hairstylist is taking too long. The man who'll make me feel like I'm no longer alone.
Tonight Hannah set me up on a date. This will be my first date after eight years. I stopped dating at the age of twenty one when I decided that my business needed more attention.
Now, it's time for me to focus on my personal life and fill this emptiness inside.
"Ana, are you okay?" Hannah just came back from the lavatory.
"Yes, I am. Just thinking about the date tonight."
"It will go well," she assures.
I have a feeling that she's lying though. Gosh, I hope not.
"Whose birthday is it?!" Julie asks while Chico glamorously shapes her hair.
"It's Ana's birthday!" Chico answers.
Julie screams, "Happy thirty-ninth birthday, Ana!"
It turns out that the one balloon placed right above the mirror Julie is facing has 39th on it. Jose put an X on the zero and replaced it with nine. Instead of 30, it said, 'Happy 39th Birthday Ana'!
Jose, give me one good reason why I shouldn't fire you.
And there goes the first chapter. There will be 15 chapters and I will be uploading three today. Can you make a review for each chapter? Lol. Thank you!
Margo.