Girls, have you ever had one of those days where no matter how hard you tried, your makeup looked like a clown face and saying you were having a bad hair day was an understatement? Perhaps all you needed was a friend!     The Makeup Fairy By Grover

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Disclaimer: This is fiction. All the characters and events portrayed here are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely accidental and unintentional. I as the author reserves all rights. A big thanks goes out to Cathy who proofed and generally made this readable. Any remaining errors, or mistakes are mine! Enjoy

 
 
Gail sighed forlornly at the imperfect image reflected in her mirror. As much as she wanted to deny it, she was looking at herself. It had taken her forever and a day to accept that, regardless of how the rest of the world saw her, she was a woman. Staring at her poorly done makeup on that all too masculine, face, she stuck out her tongue at it in pure frustration.

It would so much easier, if she could just pretend to be the lumbering guy everyone else saw. However, her inner girl had other ideas. After years of broken relationships, lost jobs, and depression, it was pretty clear that only insanity lay in that direction. It had taken years of therapy, anti-depressants, and yet more therapy, to get her to admit the nature of her problem.

Gail sighed again, making another face at herself. Her daddy always said you had to work with what you had. That made her smile, because she very much doubted her practical father had anything like this in mind.

Her mom was always the strong one, bound and determined to withstand whatever life threw at her, no matter what. Together, her parents had made a good couple, even if they hadn’t a clue on how to deal with her peculiarity. She still missed them so much, despite the years that had passed since the accident that had taken them from her.

Gail closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She would clean her face off and try yet again. First she decided to follow the advice of that song that had sustained her though many difficult times. She knew her voice left a lot to be desired, but music had always helped. As silly as it was, she sang, “Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens.”

Losing herself in happier times, she didn’t care who heard her, or what they thought. Lost in those childhood memories, Gail was barely aware of a light tingling upon her face, bug!

Her eyes snapped open, looking wildly for the creepy crawlie, but instead, her mouth fell open in utter amazement.

There, in the mirror, was an attractive woman with her makeup done superbly. She could barely tell that she was wearing any makeup at all. The colors and shades were skillfully blended to hide her masculine features.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied movement by the drapes that she had carefully pulled shut, to make certain of her privacy. Racked by indecision, she didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to know, to see, who had done such a wonderful job, while the other simply wanted more.

Her entire life, Gail wanted to believe in the supernatural and the paranormal. If miracles were real, then just maybe this gross male body of hers wasn’t the prison it had always seemed.

After the fire left her with no place to stay, her grandmother had taken her in. From another time and place, the eccentric old woman told her all kinds of fantastic tales and stories. For years, she used to leave out treats for the ‘little people’ and it only stopped after her death.

Gail had inherited the old place, but while she had always hoped and wished that the stories were true, she had never gone to the lengths her grandmother had.

Were the stories true? Had perhaps her singing, caused them to help her, like one of those old fairy tales about brownies, cobblers, elves and all the rest?

She had to suppress a giggle. The Lil’ Folk of legend weren’t known for being makeup artists!

There was one way to prove that theory. Keeping her eyes to herself, she went to her kitchen. Feeling silly, she poured some milk in a bowl and took it with her back to her bureau.

Sitting, she placed the bowl in front of her.

Calming herself, she said in her best feminine voice. “Thank you so much. You did a wonderful job. Could you help me with my nails and hair please? I would be most grateful.”

Feeling even more foolish, she closed her eyes again. Gail had her doubts that it would work again. She was unsure how much time passed, since she couldn’t see, but she was beginning to feel discouraged.

Suddenly her heart thumped as she felt that ‘tingle’ again. This time it was her hair, and it was like a light breeze was somehow blowing inside her room.

The ‘tingle’ stopped as her breath caught, but continued after she gently exhaled, relaxing. She seemed to remember that fairy creatures were very shy, and any attempt to see or catch them would be sure to chase them away.

With an act of will, she kept herself relaxed. It was happening, and sometimes you just had to trust. What must have been a fairly short time later, the ‘tingles’ ended.

Not wanting to spoil a good thing, Gail gave her unseen makeover artists a warning. “I think you’re finished now, so I’m going to open my eyes, Okay?”

Not getting a response, she dared a glance.

That woman in the mirror couldn’t be her! That hair was gorgeous! Much longer and fuller, the dark waves framed her face in just the right way. Both of her eyebrows, while not thin arches, were perfectly acceptable, and she hadn’t even felt any pain from plucking. When she touched her hair, to convince herself it was real, she stopped to stare at the beautiful ovals of her now manicured nails.

“Breathe honey, breathe,” she whispered in wonder. It was really her.

Gail blinked her long lashes, thinking furiously. The bowl of milk in front of her was drained dry. Making up her mind she said, aloud to her invisible benefactors, “Thank you so much! I’m going to leave pencil and paper here, so if you have any needs please let me know. A gift for a gift.”

“I’m going to my computer to see what else besides milk is good for you. Thank you again. I do hope we can do this again.”

A tug on her new locks proved that the sudden growth of hair was not only real, but all hers. No more male baldness for her.

A brilliant smile came to her lips. Magic was ‘real’! She didn’t have to struggle all alone with this any more. Gail had made some new friends.

Doctor Hanson, her therapist, was surprised when she arrived for her appointment, in all of her feminine glory. The Doctor had nothing, but compliments for Gail’s appearance, and remarked how much happier and more confident her patient was since their last visit. The shy, conflicted person, caught struggling against herself, had somehow blossomed.

When asked what had caused such a dramatic change, Gail just smiled, saying she had made some new friends with a talent for makeovers. She certainly couldn’t argue with the results. From her hair style, to the cute shoes her patient wore, it all seemed customized for her.

More than a little envious, Doctor Hanson had to ask, “Are they taking new customers?

Gail giggled. “Sorry Doctor, they don’t run a business and are really shy. It wasn’t because of money that they helped me. You could say they helped all because of a song…

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Note: The song lyrics is from “My Favorite Things” by Rodgers and Hammerstein.