Journey 6
~Clowns and Queens~
"Hold still..one more clip", Letty whispers, her arms trapping me, wrapped around my head loosely, her hands jabbing the pointed end of a hair clip into my scalp, as we stand in front of the mirror.
"Ouch.that's skin, not hair", I wince watching in disgust as she stands on tiptoes behind me.
"Be still.stop squirming!", she yells, stilling her hands until I stop moving. With a soft snap the clip pulls at single strands of hair, making the roots itch and sting a bit.
"Let, I look like a junior high student going to her first dance..why don't we throw some glitter on my face to round it all off", I sulk sarcastically.
"You look fine", she rolls her eyes, and we both stare blankly at me in the mirror. I shift my legs in the way to short dress Letty insisted I wear. The synthetic material rustles loudly. This is a nightmare.
"I look like a early 80's reject, that's trying to hide my lesbian tendencies with gelled short hair", I state flatly as Letty blows a quick stream of air through her nostrils.
"Stop trying to find things wrong with you, you look fine!", she yells closing her eyes and hopping onto the counter.
"Come here", she reaches behind her, and I go to stand between her legs.
"Not too much, okay.I don't wanna look like I'm trying too hard", I pull back for a second staring at the sponge dripping with flesh colored liquid coming towards my face.
"Okay", she blinks hard, annoyed. She begins layering my face with make-up, and try to relax, the cold liquid being spread across my cheeks and chin. In short wisps and delicate wrists flicks she moves to the outside, I guess blending. I stare at her face, scrunched in a concentrated scowl. She never wears make-up, so why do we even have any?
"Where'd you get all this from?", I try to mumble without moving my mouth or face.
"I used to wear this shit.back when I cared", she concentrates on one spot and it feels like she trying to rub a hole into my skin. I sigh, and wait with child like impatience. Why didn't I just blow him off? At least I wouldn't be standing here like a prize-winning cow being prepped for the slaughterhouse.
"Close your eyes", she says softly, throwing the sponge into the sink, and scooting further forward on the counter. I close them quickly, seeing the little arrowed wand heading towards my eyes. It's not necessarily a bad thing to have a tight grip on reality. There are people, guys more specifically; that you see, and you know, that there's a snowball's chance in hell of you ever being with someone that gorgeous. You deal with it, it's the reality, it's the way things work. Today, Dom just fucked up the whole system. I keep getting the notion that this is going to turn out to be one of those cruel pranks that always inevitably happen in teen movies. In the same thought, facts are presenting themselves to be contradictory. From what I know, and of course what Letty tells me, he's not a psychopath or chronic liar. He's not a cruel person; he has a heart and a loyal respect for women. Forgive for being out of date, but he's a dream, with a body to match. This isn't happening. It can't be true. It just can't. I'll see his flaw, a week into it, and he'll be totally unattractive. All I have to do is wait it out. He'll have a sixth toe, or a shoe fetish, or a doll collection, and I can laugh. I'll laugh in Let's face and follow that with a big 'I told you so'. I'll then go back to being all alone, content with knowing that he wasn't perfect, that I set the cosmos back on the right track, never to be tampered with again. My face goes limp and I roll my eyes under closed lids. That was pathetic. He could genuinely like me, and I would miss out on loving someone, just because I don't feel good enough? I clench my jaw, and wish more than anything that my opposing thoughts would get together and decide on a goddamn point of view so that my sanity could stay intact.
Smudging dark powder onto my eyelids, my head bobs back and forth at her inconsistent pressure. I will my mind to stop being fickle, and at least be neutral for tonight. Stop thinking so much about it, a third thought chimes. Let it happen, go from there. Where that came from I'm not sure, but it's the best idea my brain has generated in a long time.
"M'kay...you want liner?", she finally pulls back, snapping the little plastic case of shadow close. I look at her, then shift my head to the side, looking at her artwork in the mirror. I have to make a conscious effort to keep my mouth closed and my face neutral. I know understand why she probably stop wearing make up. Besides the one pound of extra weight now sitting on my almost closed lids, I can't tell that I even have eyeballs. Unless I want moonlight as a drag queen tonight, I'm gonna have to get Letty out of here.
"Nah, I'm good", I state quietly, still looking in the mirror, excess dust falling into my eye each time I blink.
"You sure?.mascara?", she asks again, giving my face quick once over.
"Positive", I answer quickly, stepping back a little. Putting my finger up to the disaster area, I pull back a dark gray fingertip. She hops off the counter with a shrug, beginning to walk out of the bathroom, and I can tell she's convinced that I look just great.
"Thanks Let...I really appreciate this", I stop her, sincerely. I'm not talking about the make up and hooker attire, I'm thanking her for never seeing anything bad about me, for always being my self esteem. With a wry smile she rolls her eyes and leaves me to clean up the storm. Before I can even reach for a tissue to dab some of this stuff off, she appears in the door frame again.
"He's here, so hurry up", she says quickly before darting back off, her voice trailing off as she walks back to wherever they are. I take a deep breath and look at myself again in the mirror. I can't go out like this. It's one thing to want to impress him, but it's just wrong to embarrass him by having to take out a clown. Gathering my thoughts, I turn both knobs of the faucet as far as they will go until water is splashing into the basin and onto the sink rim. I grad the bar of soap and with it clasps between my hands, I push them under the water until foam is seeping between my fingers. Holding my breath, I bend over, scrubbing at my already raw face frantically. Hearing the shallow rumble of his quiet voice in the other room, I rinse, splashing, sending a sheet of water down my face. Opening my mouth and sucking in air, I turn both knobs again, water dripping from my eyelashes. My hand finally finds a towel hanging from the wall-mounted hook, and I dry my face. Looking up in the mirror, I swallow disgust seeing my light brown face now a bright pink. Moving quickly, I run to my room, and struggle to lift the damned dress over my head. Finally throwing it to the ground with frustration, I run over to my closet, and sigh. If he can't accept me for what I am then it was never meant to be, right? Wonder how quickly he'll change his tune, when he sees that I'm dressed in a t-shirt and jeans? Yanking a black t-shirt off it's hanger, I shove it over my head, and pull it down into place. Also yanking a pair of jeans, I bend over, pulling one knee up, and shoving my leg into the pants. After teetering then falling over from lose of balance I repeat with the other leg, grunting. Slipping on a pair of sandals, I begin to run for the door, but stop upon remembering that my hair is still shellacked to my head. With a growling sigh, I stop in the door way, place my hands at the base of my head, and run my hands up to the tops. I then flail my hands back and forth loosening the tightly bonded strands. It isn't working, because my fingers are still getting stuck in fused knots of hair. Running quickly back to the bathroom, I can hear that they have stop talking and I can only assume they are wondering why I keep jetting between the hallway. Turning the sink back on, I shove my head as far down as it will go, letting my hands massage the gel out. Grabbing at the same towel again, I rub my head, and the excess water falling onto my face. Throwing the towel once again to the floor, I stand again in front of the mirror. I'm about thisclose to faking my own death to get out of this. I'll just make some vomiting noises, and pretend to be too sick to explain. Why did I think I could make the best of this?
"Jamie, get your ass out here!", I hear Letty scream, like she knew what I was thinking. Is it fate, or is it Satan trying to trick me, trick me into his evil plan for heartbreak? My hands begin to shake again, and I begin to wring them, closing my eyes. Relax.relax. I'm standing on the beach in front of the villa, waiting for my mother to call me in..relax...breath the salty air streaming in, taste it as it hits your tongue..feel the warm glow of the setting sun, hear the crash of water on rocks..relax..Jamie.relax. Breathing in, my hands slow to a barely visible tremble then stop all together. Opening my eyes I yanks my hands to my sides and roll my shoulders back. Looking at the girl in the mirror that's being entirely too hard on herself, I give her a small smile, and exit the bathroom.
~Clowns and Queens~
"Hold still..one more clip", Letty whispers, her arms trapping me, wrapped around my head loosely, her hands jabbing the pointed end of a hair clip into my scalp, as we stand in front of the mirror.
"Ouch.that's skin, not hair", I wince watching in disgust as she stands on tiptoes behind me.
"Be still.stop squirming!", she yells, stilling her hands until I stop moving. With a soft snap the clip pulls at single strands of hair, making the roots itch and sting a bit.
"Let, I look like a junior high student going to her first dance..why don't we throw some glitter on my face to round it all off", I sulk sarcastically.
"You look fine", she rolls her eyes, and we both stare blankly at me in the mirror. I shift my legs in the way to short dress Letty insisted I wear. The synthetic material rustles loudly. This is a nightmare.
"I look like a early 80's reject, that's trying to hide my lesbian tendencies with gelled short hair", I state flatly as Letty blows a quick stream of air through her nostrils.
"Stop trying to find things wrong with you, you look fine!", she yells closing her eyes and hopping onto the counter.
"Come here", she reaches behind her, and I go to stand between her legs.
"Not too much, okay.I don't wanna look like I'm trying too hard", I pull back for a second staring at the sponge dripping with flesh colored liquid coming towards my face.
"Okay", she blinks hard, annoyed. She begins layering my face with make-up, and try to relax, the cold liquid being spread across my cheeks and chin. In short wisps and delicate wrists flicks she moves to the outside, I guess blending. I stare at her face, scrunched in a concentrated scowl. She never wears make-up, so why do we even have any?
"Where'd you get all this from?", I try to mumble without moving my mouth or face.
"I used to wear this shit.back when I cared", she concentrates on one spot and it feels like she trying to rub a hole into my skin. I sigh, and wait with child like impatience. Why didn't I just blow him off? At least I wouldn't be standing here like a prize-winning cow being prepped for the slaughterhouse.
"Close your eyes", she says softly, throwing the sponge into the sink, and scooting further forward on the counter. I close them quickly, seeing the little arrowed wand heading towards my eyes. It's not necessarily a bad thing to have a tight grip on reality. There are people, guys more specifically; that you see, and you know, that there's a snowball's chance in hell of you ever being with someone that gorgeous. You deal with it, it's the reality, it's the way things work. Today, Dom just fucked up the whole system. I keep getting the notion that this is going to turn out to be one of those cruel pranks that always inevitably happen in teen movies. In the same thought, facts are presenting themselves to be contradictory. From what I know, and of course what Letty tells me, he's not a psychopath or chronic liar. He's not a cruel person; he has a heart and a loyal respect for women. Forgive for being out of date, but he's a dream, with a body to match. This isn't happening. It can't be true. It just can't. I'll see his flaw, a week into it, and he'll be totally unattractive. All I have to do is wait it out. He'll have a sixth toe, or a shoe fetish, or a doll collection, and I can laugh. I'll laugh in Let's face and follow that with a big 'I told you so'. I'll then go back to being all alone, content with knowing that he wasn't perfect, that I set the cosmos back on the right track, never to be tampered with again. My face goes limp and I roll my eyes under closed lids. That was pathetic. He could genuinely like me, and I would miss out on loving someone, just because I don't feel good enough? I clench my jaw, and wish more than anything that my opposing thoughts would get together and decide on a goddamn point of view so that my sanity could stay intact.
Smudging dark powder onto my eyelids, my head bobs back and forth at her inconsistent pressure. I will my mind to stop being fickle, and at least be neutral for tonight. Stop thinking so much about it, a third thought chimes. Let it happen, go from there. Where that came from I'm not sure, but it's the best idea my brain has generated in a long time.
"M'kay...you want liner?", she finally pulls back, snapping the little plastic case of shadow close. I look at her, then shift my head to the side, looking at her artwork in the mirror. I have to make a conscious effort to keep my mouth closed and my face neutral. I know understand why she probably stop wearing make up. Besides the one pound of extra weight now sitting on my almost closed lids, I can't tell that I even have eyeballs. Unless I want moonlight as a drag queen tonight, I'm gonna have to get Letty out of here.
"Nah, I'm good", I state quietly, still looking in the mirror, excess dust falling into my eye each time I blink.
"You sure?.mascara?", she asks again, giving my face quick once over.
"Positive", I answer quickly, stepping back a little. Putting my finger up to the disaster area, I pull back a dark gray fingertip. She hops off the counter with a shrug, beginning to walk out of the bathroom, and I can tell she's convinced that I look just great.
"Thanks Let...I really appreciate this", I stop her, sincerely. I'm not talking about the make up and hooker attire, I'm thanking her for never seeing anything bad about me, for always being my self esteem. With a wry smile she rolls her eyes and leaves me to clean up the storm. Before I can even reach for a tissue to dab some of this stuff off, she appears in the door frame again.
"He's here, so hurry up", she says quickly before darting back off, her voice trailing off as she walks back to wherever they are. I take a deep breath and look at myself again in the mirror. I can't go out like this. It's one thing to want to impress him, but it's just wrong to embarrass him by having to take out a clown. Gathering my thoughts, I turn both knobs of the faucet as far as they will go until water is splashing into the basin and onto the sink rim. I grad the bar of soap and with it clasps between my hands, I push them under the water until foam is seeping between my fingers. Holding my breath, I bend over, scrubbing at my already raw face frantically. Hearing the shallow rumble of his quiet voice in the other room, I rinse, splashing, sending a sheet of water down my face. Opening my mouth and sucking in air, I turn both knobs again, water dripping from my eyelashes. My hand finally finds a towel hanging from the wall-mounted hook, and I dry my face. Looking up in the mirror, I swallow disgust seeing my light brown face now a bright pink. Moving quickly, I run to my room, and struggle to lift the damned dress over my head. Finally throwing it to the ground with frustration, I run over to my closet, and sigh. If he can't accept me for what I am then it was never meant to be, right? Wonder how quickly he'll change his tune, when he sees that I'm dressed in a t-shirt and jeans? Yanking a black t-shirt off it's hanger, I shove it over my head, and pull it down into place. Also yanking a pair of jeans, I bend over, pulling one knee up, and shoving my leg into the pants. After teetering then falling over from lose of balance I repeat with the other leg, grunting. Slipping on a pair of sandals, I begin to run for the door, but stop upon remembering that my hair is still shellacked to my head. With a growling sigh, I stop in the door way, place my hands at the base of my head, and run my hands up to the tops. I then flail my hands back and forth loosening the tightly bonded strands. It isn't working, because my fingers are still getting stuck in fused knots of hair. Running quickly back to the bathroom, I can hear that they have stop talking and I can only assume they are wondering why I keep jetting between the hallway. Turning the sink back on, I shove my head as far down as it will go, letting my hands massage the gel out. Grabbing at the same towel again, I rub my head, and the excess water falling onto my face. Throwing the towel once again to the floor, I stand again in front of the mirror. I'm about thisclose to faking my own death to get out of this. I'll just make some vomiting noises, and pretend to be too sick to explain. Why did I think I could make the best of this?
"Jamie, get your ass out here!", I hear Letty scream, like she knew what I was thinking. Is it fate, or is it Satan trying to trick me, trick me into his evil plan for heartbreak? My hands begin to shake again, and I begin to wring them, closing my eyes. Relax.relax. I'm standing on the beach in front of the villa, waiting for my mother to call me in..relax...breath the salty air streaming in, taste it as it hits your tongue..feel the warm glow of the setting sun, hear the crash of water on rocks..relax..Jamie.relax. Breathing in, my hands slow to a barely visible tremble then stop all together. Opening my eyes I yanks my hands to my sides and roll my shoulders back. Looking at the girl in the mirror that's being entirely too hard on herself, I give her a small smile, and exit the bathroom.