Chapter 14 Salon

Since we had spent so much time with cometic selection, it was already 1:45 when we finished lunch. So we headed right over to the salon.

Mom went to the receptionist and said “You should have 2 O’clock appointments for Charli (nodding toward me) and Joy (nodding toward her). This is the girl’s first time at a salon. I’m afraid they have outgrown my skill.”

The receptionist replied “Girls, relax and enjoy yourself. This should be very enjoyable for you.”

At this point, two young women came toward the reception desk. “Charli, this is Cynthia who will be your stylist today.” A blonde knockout stepped forward, and my gaff suddenly felt very restrictive. “Cynthia, this is Charli’s first salon visit, so take good care of her.”

“Joy, this is Denice your stylist today. Denice, this is also Joy’s first salon visit.”

“This is their mother, make sure she approves their choices.”

Cynthia took me back to her station. After I sat down she wrapped a shroud around my neck and began unbraiding my hair. “Do you mind if I ask how old you are?

“I’m 13, but I will be entering 11th grade because our mom did such a terrific job homeschooling us.”

“Do you know what kind of style you would like?”

“We looked through magazines last night, and I tentatively picked one called a shag. But I would like your recommendation.”

“Your so pretty, you can work almost any style. But, in your situation, I think you want something that makes you look older not younger. You don’t have a lot of length to work with, so that restricts our choices. I also think you probably want something low maintenance. I’ll start by shampooing and conditioning your hair.” With that, she released the back of the chair, and I found myself fully reclined with my head over a sink.

As she started to shampoo my hair, I said “Yes, I want something low maintenance but more mature. The pigtails were mom's doing, and I wasn’t very happy with them.”

As she massaged the shampoo into my scalp. “Yes, we want to go for more pretty and not so cute. I’m going to rinse out the shampoo now.” She quickly finished that. “Now we are going to shampoo again. Have you discussed hairstyles with your girlfriends?”

“When we were homeschooled it was just my sister and I. We didn’t have much contact with anyone outside the family, except for one neighbor lady, who kind of appointed herself, surrogate grandmother. My sister and I never talked about hair until last night, and even then, it was hard to separate teasing from true feelings. Like I suggested the Shirley Temple style for her, and she picked a long flowing femme fatale style for me.”

“Seems like you have a very good connection with your sister.”

“Yes, and it seems to be getting stronger as we prepare for our first day of school.”

“You mean you have never been in a classroom situation before?” asked Cynthia.

“No, we have only been homeschooled together since I was almost 5 and she was 3 ½.”

As she finished a second rinse “Wow, this is a big step for you. I’ll make sure you look good.”

She worked a towel over my head with her massaging fingers. “I’m going to get your mother and some pictures. Then together we can decide on a style.”

She came back with mom and a loose-leaf binder. “You said, you might like a shag.” opening the book and displaying a picture for mom and I. “That would be a good style for you. It would be low maintenance, only requiring brushing in the morning. If you go that route, I would suggest adding highlights.”

“What are highlights?” I asked.

She opened the book turned pages and set it in front of me. “The picture on the left is without highlights the one on the right with them. It is done by coloring sections lighter or darker. It gives the hair a more three-dimensional look.”

She changes the page to a wavy longer style. “I think you have enough length for something like this. I think it would make you look more mature. But it would be more work. You would have to use a curling iron on it regularly.”

I really liked the style and agreed it would make me look older. But I really didn’t want to have to mess around with curling irons and such.

Mom echoed my thoughts “I don’t think your ready using a curling iron every morning, you don’t even brush it now.”

While true, I found it a little embarrassing having my mom say that in front of Cynthia.

Cynthia showed us a few more styles, but we agreed on the shag with highlights.

“We will start with the highlights because they will be easier to do before we trim the hair.”
As Cynthia started combing out my and separating it into little bunches she wrapped in aluminum foil. “Now we are going to color the highlights, this will smell pretty bad, but such is the price of beauty.” She put on some plastic gloves. Mixed some chemicals together, and applied it to my hair with a sponge. The smell was something you would avoid if possible. But, I didn’t seem to have a choice.

When we finished she walked me over to a magazine rack “You may want to pick something to read while that drys.” I chose a copy of Sixteen though I would have preferred Popular Science. Then over to a different chair. “Now you get to bake.” as she lowered a helmet over my head. She gave me some foam earplugs. “You should put these in your ears.”

I was glad I had put in the earplugs, as the drier was loud and overly hot (in my opinion).
I settled in with the magazine and was into an article on how to achieve different looks with eye makeup. What was happening to me? A week ago I would have had absolutely no interest in this. Was I really turning into a girl, mentally? Was I becoming a different person? Was I losing Charlie? Deep breath. I am just exploring, and I am finding new and interesting things. I am opening new possibilities for myself.

My musings were interrupted by Cynthia turning off the drier. “We didn’t overbake you, did we?”

“I think my brain was overheating,” I said, thinking she doesn’t know how true that is.

Taking me back to the first chair, “I’m going to remove the foils then style your hair.”

She took somewhat longer than mom did cutting my hair. But I found her chatter interesting.
She said she thought I would enjoy high school, making new friends, and with them discovering my own look and style. Another area that was new, but she made it seem fun and exciting.

She dropped the subject of boys when I told her I wasn’t into boys (I’m sure she added a mental yet, but I was closer to adding an ever). Whenever I thought of her, the gaff made its’ presence known, and I wondered how many people had crushes for their hair stylists.

When she removed the cape and handed me a hand mirror, I didn’t know what to expect. Looking into the mirror, I saw a new and definitely feminine me looked back. “I love it!” (the love seemed like overacting to the Charlie me, but to the Charli me it was definitely more than like, and a good way to thank Cynthia, call it flirting, Charlie.)

I got up and twirled in front of a full-length mirror. That felt free and uninhibited and right for the new me.

Assessing myself, though I had chosen the hairdo as androgynous, the highlights tilted to the definitely feminine direction. I decided I was happy with that. I still looked like a 13 year-old girl.
I would have preferred looking like 15, but that would be hard with my body’s lack of shape. It’s not that I wanted to grow up fast, but that I wanted to fit in with the girls I would be schooled with.

Mom came in followed by a new looking Joy.

Mom said, “I love it, on you too.”

“Me too.” from Joy.

I twirled for them while saying “ I love yours too, Joy. It makes you look older, Almost like we could be fraternal twins.”

“That would be so cool! Having you as my sister keeps getting better.” gushed Joy.

Chapter 15 A Special Dress

As we left the salon mom said. “I would like you each to select a dressy dress to go with your new looks.”

We went to “Young and Special”, a store with clothing and accessories targeting teenaged young women.

I looked at endless display models, but thinking back to how I looked in the mirror at the salon, I didn’t feel I could pull off most of them, they emphasized breast or waist and hips I didn’t have. Then I found the perfect dress. I had never felt that way about a piece of clothing before. It was a simple dress with a short skirt and a fabric that drapes well and felt divine (I later learned it was called skater style and was made of microfiber).

It was available in many colors. I chose a maroon, that made me feel mature and sophisticated.
When I put it on and modeled for mom and Joy, I reassured myself that it was indeed perfect for this time and place in my life.

Joy gushed, “You look beautiful!” Mom nodded and I think her eyes glistened.

Joy quickly decided she wanted the same dress except in a royal blue.

The Charlie part of me didn’t want to vocalize how pretty she looked in it, “You look great, sis.”

Mom nodded and said “This was a lot easier than I was expecting. You have both made great selections, that I am very happy with. Together you are ready to wow the world”

When we got to the car, mom opened the trunk and began rummaging through the mornings shopping.

“What are you doing, Mom?” I asked.

“I want to hit Julie, with the new versions of both of you, when we walk in. I can’t wait to see her reaction.” answered mom.

She handed us each one of our new lipsticks. Then each of us a new camisole and me the black bra and a pink pantie. “Girl’s like to match underwear, but you don't have a red bra or a black pantie, and you should wear a darker bra under that dress.”

We headed back to “Young and Special” to use the changing room. We should have left the dresses, but I don’t think, mom’s idea to hit Julie with the whole package, crystalized until the walk back to our car.

Mom helped me, especially with the lipstick. I really did feel young and special, and loved it!

On the ride home, I asked “Mom, could you cut down on the teasing, like the, not a real girl comment?”

Mom replied, “That, comes with the job description for a parent. But seriously, you are faced with a serious decision, one that I fear is too big for a 13-year-old. I think it would serve you well, to be able to pull back, look at your situation, and be able to laugh at yourself. I rationalize, that I am trying to help you do that. Besides, teasing can be fun.”

It took a while to sink in, but mom was right. There was a lot of humor in what I had gone through today, and being able to see that and laugh at myself would help me keep from being buried by the seriousness of the decision I faced. The “You must not be a real girl.” was looking more humorous and feeling less stinging. I needed to reassure us “I love you, mom.”

Chapter 16 Sophisticated Young Ladies

When we got home, mom had us stand together, where Julie would not be able to see us until she was in the doorway to her office. That way we could all observe her reaction.

We held each other’s hand which I found reassuring. I knew we looked good, but I was feeling a little anxious. I really wanted Julie’s approval. While I didn’t expect rejection, I began to wonder how much approval was enough. I felt sorry for those who expected, and all too often received a rejection.

Mom knocked on the office door.

Julie answered, “Come in.”

“No. You come out and see the new versions of Charlie and Joy,” said Mom

The speed she appeared in the doorway was surprising, for the normally slow and deliberate Julie. Seeing us her eyes got big, and her jaw dropped. The room remained silent. After what seemed a long time, but was probably less than a minute, Julie said “You both are beautiful. I thought I was joking this morning, but you have both transformed into sophisticated young ladies.”

Turning to mom she asked “May I have the pleasure of escorting you three lovely young ladies to dinner tonight?”

“We would be delighted to.” mom answered for all of us.

Julie ducked into her office. Ten minutes later, she announced, “We have reservations for my favorite seafood restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf.”

Julie looked at me, her happy smile changed to a worried look. I wondered what was wrong? Had I done something? She squatted, gave me a hug, “Charli, you look so ravishing, I forgot till just now, you might not be ready for this. We can cancel if it’s a problem for you.”

With relief, I replied “No way! I forgot too. And now I’m really want to go to Fisherman’s Wharf.”

After mom changed (it was still strange to see her in heels) she helped Joy and me with makeup.
“This is probably not the time to experiment with eyeliner and your complexions don’t need any help, but you may want to try a little eye shadow and mascara.”

I put on some rose eye shadow, under mom’s supervision. Joy chose a light blue to go with her dress.

Mom demonstrated putting on mascara “Be careful, it’s easy to poke yourself in the eye.” It wasn’t easy, but both Joy and I managed without serious injury.”

Mom asked “Charli, do you mind if I shape your brows a little.”

“What do you mean?” This was seaming a little ominous.

“I’ll just pluck a few strays”

I didn’t like the idea of being plucked, but I said: “Go ahead.”

She plucked hairs. It hurt, but not as bad as I feared. When she finished she took a pencil from her purse and used it on my brows. “Look in the mirror, and see how you like that.”

When I looked, it was hard to recognize myself. The arch in the brows definitely made me look more feminine. The brows, the lipstick, the shadow, and the mascara all worked together to give me an older appearance (maybe 15?). “I like it, thanks, mom.”

The Wharf was the mall on steroids. Joy and I held hands as we strolled, the smiles we received were warmer and more numerous than at the mall. Mom and Julie’s smiles were bordering of full-fledged grins.

On the drive to the restaurant, I retold the story of mom’s “You must not be a real girl”.
Mom defended herself against Julie’s frown with “I told her she had to learn to see the humor in her situation and be able to laugh at herself.”

Julie said, “We all need to remain thankful, that we are blessed so much love in this family.
We need to give each other a little leeway, when one of us says something that stings, knowing the intention was not to hurt. Frankie, you need to remember that young ladies have delicate sensitivities. Charlie, your mother is right, you need to see the humor in your situation, and be able to laugh at yourself. That was a hard lesson for me to learn. But without it, I doubt I could have gotten to the wonderful place, I am now.”

The fine restaurant was a wonderful new experience. But I was floating on such a high cloud, over the public reception of Charli, that I have trouble relating the details.

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The next part will be the final part, I hope you enjoy the process Charli(e) uses to decide. There will be a revelation at the end that many may find surprising.