Something Feels Strange…

As we say good night, I notice that she is wearing a new necklace. I don't know why I hadn't noticed it earlier. I guess that I am not all that observant at times. Anyway the necklace looks disturbingly familiar. Hanging from a delicate gold chain around her neck is a gold colored charm in the shape of a running shoe.

As I look at it, she says “It reminds me of you,”

and winks at me before heading inside.

Chapter 5: Not Again!

My sense of smell receives the initial assault. There is an overwhelming smell of strong chemicals.  I’ve smelled this before.  When I was a child.  When my mother took me to the salon where I had to wait while she had something done to her hair.  I am afraid to open my eyes.

Next I notice hands massaging my wet hair under a stream of warm water.  I am laid back in a comfortable chair.  It feels very strange.  And very real.  It is also comfortable.

Uh oh!  I think that I want to go back to sleep!  It’s been a week now since the last dream/nightmare.  I had thought that I was past it.

“Well...” I hear an unfamiliar feminine voice say, “Sleeping Beauty awakes!”

She must have noticed me getting tense.

I open my eyes.  I am looking up into the face of a young woman with spiky hair.  Purple hair.  She has quite a few piercings. It is enough to frighten small children, and me too!  I give a start, which causes her to laugh.

“Hi.” She bubbles. “My name’s Samantha, but all my friends call me Sam. Welcome to my little corner of the world.  I’ll be turning you into a new girl tonight.”

You have no idea, I think to myself.  I have a pretty good idea that the process is already well along its way.

“You were really out of it when they brought you here, Honey–like the walking dead.  I figured you were on drugs or something.  They told me that you’d snap out of it, but I had my doubts.  It’s a good thing that I like Amanda, or I wouldn’t have come in so late on a Saturday night for a comatose girl.  Whatever you are doing tomorrow must be quite the deal to warrant paying double to keep me here tonight.  Amanda said that it couldn’t wait.  Too bad she said that I can’t ask you about it–I suspect something juicy.  Coming in the back door just adds to the excitement.  I don’t suspect that it has anything to do with that hunk that helped you in here?  For your sake, I really hope that I am wrong.  He looks pretty delicious, but he looks a bit too old for you.  Oh well, the choice for me tonight was to either work with you or watch some movie on TV.” She sighed, “By myself.  But 10pm is a bit late to get started on a complete makeover.  We’ll be here for hours.”

I get the impression that Samantha could talk non-stop all night without much prompting.

“Don’t move, Honey.  I’ll let the conditioner soak into your hair for a second while I let Amanda know that you are with us now.” She says as she wanders off somewhere. 

One week and a day. That’s how long it has been since THE DREAM. In that week there was no real indication that the dream was any more than just that–a dream. I was starting to think that maybe that is just what it was–a dream.

There have, however been a number of coincidences: for example, there’s Laurie’s necklace. That is just so strange–it’s like déjá  vu whenever I see it–she has been wearing it every day.  However, there is nothing too strange about our relationship.  If anything she is more affectionate and seems to find every possible excuse to be by my side, not that I’m complaining, I chalk it up to the coming separation.  I am supposed to leave on Sunday.  Tomorrow.

Then there are the two mothers: it is hard to put a finger on it, but they are acting somewhat differently towards me for some reason–as if they are closely watching me. 

Laurie’s mom had been unable to get up to help her sister until today, but they have been setting alight the telephone lines between here and Alaska every evening. 

Mrs. Mercer and Laurie took a late afternoon flight to Alaska today.  I drove them to the airport so that I could say goodbye for the summer.  Both Laurie and I were a little misty eyed as I left her at the security check point.  I watched her until she got to the other side where she blew me a kiss before heading off to her gate.  They will be gone for eight days.  Cousin Kris will probably be coming back with them.

Marla was the strangest of all.  Every time we are around together, she stares at me when she thinks that I am not looking.  Not only that, but she seems to be less of a prankster this week, as if she’s a bit uncomfortable around me, like she’s bursting with a secret that she can’t tell. This behavior is the only indication that I have had that keeps me from completely discounting the dream as a dream.  She graduated from high school on Thursday so she hasn’t been around much. She has spent a lot of time with her friends when not at work. I think that she has been relieved to stay away.  I know that I appreciated it.

I had been apprehensive about Monday.  I recalled the dream indicating that on Monday I was going to have to go to school as a girl.  I was pretty relieved when that didn’t happen.  That is one curve that I DID NOT need during finals week.  That was further indication to me that the whole event was actually a dream.

Final exams went well.  I finished with straight As. Again. It turned out that the history exam was much easier than anticipated.

Dad made it back from wherever it is that he goes to be here for Marla’s graduation.  She was pretty happy about that.  Earlier this morning, he and I went for that hike up in the hills overlooking the valley.  I skipped my run to be with him.  We spent some time sitting under an oak tree looking over the valley talking about the things that fathers and sons talk about. He gave me what wisdom a father can about love, life, and success.  It was almost like a farewell talk.  You know, one of those times when you reminisce about the past and get advice about how to conduct yourself in the future.  I’m just leaving for nine weeks.  You’d think that we are never going to see each other again.  We got back in time so that I could take Laurie out for a pizza lunch before taking her and her mother to the airport.

I was home early enough so that I could finish packing for camp.  Dad and I were planning to leave before 7 AM so that we can get to the scout camp up in the Sierras by noon.  This meant an early bed time so that I can get in a short run before we leave.

I have been contemplating the dream this week. A lot more that I had time for.  Even with final exams to distract me it has never been far from my mind.  I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that there is a message in there somewhere for me.  My runs have been much shorter this week–five to seven miles a day–due to needing time for study, so my contemplation time hasn’t been what I would have liked it to be.

One offshoot of the dream is that I have been paying more attention to girls.  Well at least to what they are wearing. I’ve even noticed the odd panty line from time to time and thought about how they could avoid them.  Something that I have never done before.  Laurie seems to have noticed me looking at the other girls, which is embarrassing for me, but when she does notice, she doesn’t seem to mind.  Instead, she asks me questions about what I think about what they are wearing.  She has explained a bit about the intricacies of female attire, sticking to the more public pieces.  Thank you very much.  She has been trying to get me to understand the differences in colors, their various names and how they relate to one another.  I think I am a hopeless cause.

I couldn’t help but wonder, sometimes, what some of the clothes would look like on the female version of me.  I’m not tempted to wear them myself in my male form because that would look just too weird.  There is no way that they would fit well.  My frame is obviously male, even if it is skinny.  I doubt that I can pass for female no matter how much assistance that I can get.  It just won’t work to wear female clothing, in my male form, but in the female form things would fit nicely and some would even look good.  It was an intriguing thought that reoccurred throughout the week.

I have also been watching their mannerisms.  I am still as baffled by female mannerisms as any guy, but I spent a noticeable amount of time trying to see what it is that they do that is different from what guys do.  It has been an interesting study.  One that will take a long time to yield substantial results.

“Well Kris!,”  I hear mom’s voice. “That must have been some graduation party you went to!  You know that I will have to tell your aunt Jennifer about it when she gets back.”

“Ah...”, I begin to say before being cut off.

Okay... the strangeness is back.  Big time.  However, I can take the hint.  I am a straight A student after all.  It would appear that Mrs. Mercer is now my aunt Jennifer and that makes Laurie my cousin.  This is, apparently, a continuation of last week’s dream.  It is also clear that Samantha here is not in on the plan.  This makes things awkward, as I still have a list of unanswered questions to go over.

“Mrs. Quinn”, I say, following the prompts, “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember what happened.  Where are we?”

“I should think you wouldn’t remember what is going on.”  the lecture continues.  “I had to track you down and bring you here.  You apparently ‘forgot’ about tomorrow.  I had to use my special secret treatment for intoxication to bring you around.  I am glad to see that it is working.  Oh, and we are at ‘A Unique Style’, Sam’s beauty salon, just so you know.”

Brain central kicks in gear and sends out a stream of messages:  Don’t panic.  Last time didn’t work out too bad.  This has a high probability of being just another dream.  Go with the flow.

Apparently there has been a little reprogramming going on since the last dream.  We are better prepared for the strangeness this time around.

“So, Kris is it?” starts Samantha, “Is that short for Kristine or Kristina?”

“Ah.. Kristina.” I guess.  Apparently correctly.  I can’t see my mom for visual clues since I can’t move my head right now.  I am staring at the ceiling as Samantha is rinsing the conditioner out of my hair.

“Well Kris”, continues Sam, “What HAVE you been doing, or should I say, NOT DOING, with your hair!?!?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. “It is a mess. I don’t think that I’ve seen split ends like this in, like forever.  If your hair wasn’t so short, I’d say that you have never had a haircut before.”

“Amanda here, “ Sam goes on, “tells me that you just need a trim.  Honey, if you want, I think that we can do so much better than that.  While your hair color is wonderful, a few pink highlights would really accent that cute strawberry color you have.  Your hair has some natural body to it, but it is still pretty straight.  A perfect candidate for a layered cut.  A layered look will make you the cutest girl this side of the Mississippi.  You’d be the envy of every girl around and the guys will follow you around like puppy dogs.  What do you say Honey?”

This all come out in a rapid waterfall of words.  And in a nearly foreign language.  I need some time to digest the dialog and work out an interpretation.

I guess that she notices the confused look on my face and jumps to conclusions.

“Still a little out of it, Honey?” She observes. “What do you think, Amanda?  Should I work magic on this girl?  It appears that Kris here is still coming out from whatever she was under.”

“I think the highlights sound interesting, but I don’t think that it suits her.  She’s a hopeless tom boy and likes to keep things simple.” Amanda gives me some more clues into my new cover story. “I agree with you that layering would look great on her, but how would that work with a pony tail?  She needs to pull her hair back when she runs.  Also, we don’t want to impose on your time too much.”

Thank goodness running is still part of my life!  Running is life for me.  As I mentioned before, it is what helps me survive all the challenges in my teenage life.  After tonight I will need another long one!

I get the impression that we are on a schedule again, but maybe not so urgent as last time.

“So she’s one of those athletic types.” Sam observes, “she sure looks pretty fit.  Layering would be a problem as some of the hair wouldn’t be long enough to be put into a pony tail.  Too bad, such potential lost!  What a shame.”

It is clear that she wants to bring all her talents to bear on the subject.  It must be hard to keep it simple.  I can sense her disappointment.

“Honey, a word of advice, stay away from the liquor and drugs if you want to keep the running thing going.  I’m sure that you have heard that before, but you need to lighten up a little.  You must have hit it pretty hard to be so out of it as when you came in.” Sam counsels. “And so early in the night to!”

“Okay,” she says, getting back to business, “we keep it simple.  I’ll part it down the middle, trim up the ends some.  How about we avoid the square cut in the back and curve it a little?  It will still rest on your shoulders and be long enough for what you like to do with it.  You’ll also be able to braid it if you want, though a little more length would be nice for that.  You ought to try a braid while working out, I think that you will find it more comfortable than a pony tail.”

“Ah... sure,” is the best that I can get out, still trying to get a handle on exactly what she wants to do.  My response seems to be adequate.

No objections come from mother dear so she must be okay with whatever is going to happen.

“Well,” she says as she sits me up.  The conditioning is done, and she is drying my head with a towel. “We’ll do the initial trim while your hair is still damp, then we’ll blow dry your hair to get a touch more body out of it.”

Sam drapes towels over my shoulders and has me move to another chair.  I notice that I am wearing a plastic bib/apron type of thing over my clothes.

I get my first look at my surroundings.  I am in a small parlor with several stations, each with a reclining chair like the one that I am in, obviously for washing hair.  There are also some chairs in stations meant for hair cutting.  Each station has a large mirror.  Over to one side are a couple of chairs with hair driers.  There are shelves with a huge number of bottles of all shapes, sizes and colors and cabinets liberally spread about.  I am sure that each bottle and tube has some chemical used to enhance the beauty of women.  There is a front counter by the door with a small waiting area that has racks of magazines.  The front counter has many products obviously for sale.  The storefront window has a large shade which is pulled down.  A door leads further back into the building.  I suspect to a storeroom and/or office area. 

In an attempt to get the conversation going, Sam asks be which high school I go to.  I’m not sure how to answer that one.

Mom, Amanda, jumps in “Kris is from Alaska.  She is visiting her aunt and cousin this summer.”

Okay, so now I have had a week to think about the last dream.  There has also been the conversations of the intervening week.  I am starting to think that last weekend’s adventure was not a dream after all.  I still can’t explain the gender changes.  Or the transport.

I can’t even remotely fathom why all this is happening–or if it really IS happening.  I am confused. Again. Still?  I am also, obviously, not in a position to raise a stink about it without involving Sam in the discussion.  A complication that I am not ready for.

I figure that the best approach is to continue looking befuddled from being under the influence.  I’ll let mom do the talking.  Hopefully, I can learn something.  Sam seems to buy the ‘she is out of it’ story and is content to chat with mom while she works on me.

The conversation turns to recent local events, the weather, the plight of women, and other topics that I don’t need to be a part of.  The two women seem to get along well enough without me.  I am simply an observer trying to glean as much information about my situation as I can.

I have a good view of the mirror.  The cute girl is back.  The damp hair is a big improvement from last week.  Sam is combing her hair and snipping away with scissors.  Since we are keeping things simple, it doesn’t take long to finish the trim. 

Sam goes to work with a hand held hair drier and a brush.  She gives some tips about how to work the brush and dryer to add more ‘body’ into my hair.  She cautions me about getting in a rush and using too much heat.  Apparently this will lead to all sorts of problems, not the least of which are split ends.

Sam also goes on to explain different ways of arranging the hair for various occasions.  I think that she senses that she is working with a girl that has been cut off from society way too long!  Someone that could use a little instruction.

She finishes off by pulling the sides back and clipping them together with a large plastic clip. The cute girl is even cuter. 

Thinking that things are done, I start to get up.

“Where are you going Honey?” She asks. “We still have a bit to do.”

So this is going to be more than just a haircut.  I can’t begin wonder what else she has in mind.  After all, the barber usually stops here.

“Next up is the taming of those wild eyebrows.” I am informed.

Okay, I’m not sure I like this idea.  After all, I have spent my life sharing a bathroom with two older sisters.  I have seen them plucking their faces before.  It always looked painful.

The first hair goes.  My guess is right on the money.  It hurts!

“I don’t know what they do for fashion in Alaska, Honey,” Sam says, “but you are in civilization now.  No self respecting girl can go around with eyebrows like these.” Pluck, there goes another hair.  The torture continues for a while.  When she is done, my face hurts.  The result is a pair of finely shaped, arched eyebrows.  Since they are blonde, they are not too prominent.

“Much better.” Sam pronounces.  Mom agrees.  I wait for further instructions.

“Now the fun begins.” pronounces Sam with some irony. “Get up, Honey, time to visit the torture chamber.”

This does not sound like fun.

She leads me through the door in the back of the work area that we have been in since we arrived.  The door leads to a hallway with a few doors off either side.  She opens one and the three of us go inside.  There is a table in the middle of the room and a screen in the corner.

“Before we do this, Honey,” she says, “I need to ask if using you are using Accutane, Retin A, or glycolic products.”

“No.” I reply

“And when was the last time you shaved your legs?” she asks.

“I never have,” I answer truthfully.

“You really are from the wilderness, aren’t you?  Just as well, your hair needs to be at least 1/4” long for this to work well. Go behind that screen, Honey, and take your clothes off.; Since we aren’t doing the bikini or brazilian, you can leave your underwear on if you like. There is a robe for you to wear.  I’ll be back in a minute.” she says before disappearing.

After the door closes I ask, “Mom.  What’s going on?  Last week’s dream was not a dream was it?”

“Sorry Honey, I was starting to think that we could call this off, but it was not to be.” She sighed. “No, this is not a dream.  As we told you last week, the explanation is too long for the time we have.  It is imperative that we look as normal as possible for Sam when she gets back.  And while you are like this, we are not related.  I promise you that you will have your answers before dawn.  In the mean time, just keep going with the flow.  You are doing great, sweetheart.   You’ll have a big decision to make after we tell you what is happening.  For now sweetheart, I have to tell you that I am very proud of you.”

“You better get over there and start getting into that robe before Sam gets back.” She adds.

I jump behind the screen and start to undress just before Sam pops back into the room.  “How are we doing, Honey?”  She asks.

“Ah... I’ll just be a minute,”  I reply.

As I start to undress, I hear her working preparing some equipment.  I start to smell hot wax.

Up to this point I haven’t really paid attention to my attire.  How could I be so comfortable in these clothes that I didn’t notice them?  I wonder about that.

As I peel them off, I notice my attire for the first time.  The top is a light green form fitting T-shirt like top, though nothing like what I would have worn as a guy.  I remember it from last week’s shopping session.  The neck line is designed to show of a bit of chest, but not immodestly so and the sleeves are a little puffy.  I am wearing those first jeans that I tried on last week and the white leather belt that I had picked out.   I am wearing the running shoes.  A pair of pink socks with little red hearts adorn my feet.  Finally, I am wearing a matching lingerie set that consists of a pair of bikini panties and a bra, both in a color that is supposed to mimic skin color, I think.  The underwear stays on.

Okay, as I am taking off these garments I am waiting for brain central to kick in with panicky warning messages.  Nothing special comes out.  The only message I get is ‘hurry up girl, people are waiting.’  I don’t have time to contemplate this new development right now so I follow directions.  There is no time for exploration so I concentrate on the job at hand.

The white terry robe is short.  It barely covers my posterior.   

Emerging from behind the screen, Sam has me lay face down on the table.  She provides a headrest that I can use when laying face down.

As she spreads the hot wax on the back of my legs she starts to explain the process.

“Okay, Honey, there’s a price for looking good and you are going to be paying it tonight.  Welcome to the club.  There is no fun way to do this the first time.” She apologizes as she spreads wax on my left leg. “The good news is that it gets easier every time you do it.”

I am getting the idea behind the process and I don’t like it. While the warm wax feels good the anticipation of its removal is scary.  I am not disappointed.  It hurts!  As Sam rips the first strip off, I grab the edge of the table and stifle a scream.

The first strip is a learning experience.  Now that I know what to expect, while painful, the rest are easier to take.

Once the back of the legs are done, Sam has me roll over for the front.  She gets a little fresh in the crotch area which makes me nervous.

“Amanda says to skip on the bikini wax,” Sam tells me, “but it looks as if you could really use it, Honey.  At least you are going to need to trim your bush before going out in public in a swim suit.  Don’t you want me to do that too?”

“Ah... maybe next time?” I respond.  “I can only handle so much pain at one time!”  And embarrassment–I don’t add.  Brain central is showing signs of wanting to explore the new anatomy, but not with an audience.  It appears that there has been a lot of new programming put into place since last week!

Don’t think that mom has been silent this whole time.  She seems to sense that I don’t have any real desire to be chatty with Sam tonight, so she has been keeping Sam’s attention.  Thank you mom!  I just don’t have the experience as a girl necessary to hold my own in a salon gossip session.  Sam uses a lot of terms that I am not really familiar with.

After the last strip comes off, Sam uses a spray bottle to mist my legs which are red and sore;  it is sooo soothing. 

“Okay, Honey, it is time to do those armpits.” Sam enthuses. “Please remove the robe and raise your arm.”

“Ah... can we skip on that?” I ask. “If I promise to shave often?”

“It will be easier to do now while the hair is longer.” Sam points out.  “But I understand why you would want to avoid this one.  It hurts more than the legs.  What do you think, Amanda?”

“I guess we can skip that for now” Amanda relents, “if you have a razor that she can borrow to do the job. Are you sure, sweetheart?”

Oh yes... I am very sure that I don’t want anyone ripping hair out of my armpits.  I give an affirmative node.

“I have a razor and some shaving cream in the store room.” Sam says.  I just know that she is disappointed.  Sadist! “I’ll be right back.”

“Hang in there, sweetheart.” Mom encourages me after Sam leaves. “We still have a few things to do here.  Make sure that you pay close attention to the makeup lesson that is coming.  You may need to be doing your own as early as tomorrow.”

Before I can respond Sam pops back in with a razor, some shaving cream, and a damp towel.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Sam asks after getting a look at my armpits as I start the shaving process.

I shake my head negatively.

“Well, when you get back to your wilderness, you should take a razor with you, Honey.” She instructs.  “Do all the Alaska girls look like this?”

“Ah... No.  I guess I’m kind of a unique girl.  I have never spent any time being girly.  Amanda, my aunt, and cousin are trying to change that.” I admit.  That doesn’t even begin to tell the story.

“Well, for your sake, Honey, I hope they succeed.  You are quite pretty you know.  It would be a shame to not make the most of it.” she observes.  “Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Ah... no.  Never have.  I have never felt the need.”  I admit.

“Poor girl!”  She commiserates for me.  “You don’t know what you are missing.  Men may be a bit simple and you have to work a bit to keep them in line, but there is nothing quite like having a man in your life.  The right one can make you feel pretty special.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” I ask.

“Oh, I’ve had a few Honey.” She sighs.  “Right now I am on the prowl again.  Every time I think that I have found Mr. Right, one of us does something stupid and I’m back on my own again.  It is really nice at the start.  Maybe the next one will be him.”

I am thinking that ditching the purple hair and piercings may be a good way to start attracting Mr. Right, but figure that I better be quiet on that one.

As I finish up the shaving job, Sam inquires about the status of my legs.

“They are still tender, but are getting better surprisingly fast.” I inform her.

“Good.”  She says. “Why don’t you put the robe back one and we’ll save the rest of your clothes for when we are done with everything else.  By then your legs should feel much better.”

After donning the robe, I realize that I felt comfortable hanging out in panties and a bra in the presence of the two women.  Yep, some serious reprogramming has gone on in the past week.  I’ll need to explore that when I get some breathing room.

We end up back in the main salon for some nail work.

Sam started by clipping and shaping the nails.  We decide on a rounded look.  My nails are, apparently, not all that long.  Sam, of course thinks that I could use some enhancement to make them longer.  Mom and I nix the idea.  Poor Sam would like to make the most of the night!

Next comes a soak in some liquid that is supposed to soften up the nails and cuticles. She explains the cuticle trimming process before starting in.  The process is not as bad as I thought it would be from the explanation.

After bringing the cuticles under control, Sam applies a clear coat of something she calls a base coat of nail strengthener.

After much discussion over color, we finally settle on a very pale pink.  I was all for leaving things as they were, so the clear option sounded best to me.  Sam, who is trying to encourage me to ‘express my femininity’ more fully has some colors in mind that would not go unnoticed.  It is mom that suggests the pale pink because it would be feminine (in my mind, ANY color would be feminine.  When was the last time you saw a guy with nail polish?) while still being subdued.

After the color coat was dried, Sam applied a top coat of clear polish.  She then moved on to repeat the process on my toes.  I’m not sure who is going to be seeing my toes, but I am assured that it is the thing to do so I go along with the treatment.

This is a lot of work!  And for what?  I don’t understand why anyone would want to do all this, but I have to admit that the result looks appropriate for the girl that I had become.

“Now for makeup Honey.” Sam states. “What do you normally use?”

“You know how it is in the wilderness.” I say, “We just go with what nature gave us.”

“I take it then” Sam inquires “that this will be another new experience?”

“This whole evening is a new experience.”  If you only knew how much, I add silently.

“We don’t have time for the whole lesson.” Mother adds, “So let’s just keep it simple and understated for now.  She can learn the rest later.”

“And here I thought that I was getting you ready for a big debut.” Sam pouts a little.  “You have me real curious about what is going on! I know, I know. I agreed to not ask questions.”

Oh, the debut is big alright!  I still don’t know what it is, but it is big for me, no matter what it is!  I get the feeling that my first public experience as a girl is only hours away.

“We’ll start with cleaning your face.” Sam explains.  She shows me the product that she is using before wiping down my face.  “A clean face is essential to good makeup.  You have very clear skin, Honey, but you do need to work at keeping it that way.  You will want to do this every night before bed and in the morning before you apply your makeup.”

Next comes a moisturizer.  I am told that this will keep my skin looking young for a long time.

“You are going to need to learn about concealers Honey, but we are keeping things simple tonight.  You don’t need them as bad as a lot of other girls, but if you keep up the partying, you’ll be needing them sooner than later.” The instruction continues.

“I am now applying a foundation that matches your natural color closely,”  she explains as she brushes something on my face.  I can already tell that there is something there.  It is an uncomfortable greasy feeling.  I have a few questions about why anyone would want to do this, but I get the impression that every teenage girl would know the answer to that question, so I keep my mouth shut for now.

Sam then attacks my eyebrows with some kind of foam like brush.  She tells me that this will accent my eyebrows as if I should know why I want to do this.  She makes a big deal about making it look natural.  Wouldn’t natural be as in none at all?

We are skipping the eye shadow step because we are trying to keep things looking natural, but Sam assures me that we could add some that would be really make my eyes more dramatic without being so obvious.  The question in my mind, is why bother applying it if you don’t want anyone to notice it?  My male training still does not allow me to understand why we are going to all this trouble.

Next comes eyeliner.  This is supposed to call attention to my eyes.  Why, again, would I want to do that?  She is, she tells me, keeping things restrained by just doing the eye lid with a small thin line.

After the eye liner, she brings out a strange contraption similar to one that I have seen my sisters use.  It is used to curl eyelashes.  I am sure that this is important, so I pay attention to what she does.  I’m not sure that I notice any difference.

Now for mascara.  The process of applying this stuff looks to be potentially hazardous.  If I have to do this myself, I’ll have to work on my coordination!

We finish up with some pink lip gloss that is supposed to compliment my nails and my ‘natural’ skin color.  She spreads the stuff on my lips and has me purse them together then blot the excess on a tissue.

Finally getting a look in the mirror, I am impressed.  I thought that the girl was cute before.  With the makeup she looks radiant.  And you don’t notice the makeup as much as you do the girl.  It is like magic.  Maybe there is something to painting a face. 

“Honey, I’m sure you’ve thought of this, but you really need to get your ears pierced.”  Says the one with multiple piercings.  “I’m sure that you have your reasons for not doing it, but a nice set of earrings would take you from beautiful to gorgeous. I can do it for you if you like.  I would recommend three holes in each ear.”

I look over at mom and she just shrugs her shoulders.  I can remember a few battles when my sisters were younger about getting pierced ears.  Mom finally relented when they became teenagers but kept them to a single set of holes.  I’m sixteen now, which, I guess, is old enough by mom’s standards.

Seeing my indecision, Sam encourages me “You’ll hardly feel it.”

“Okay” I say, “but only one hole in each ear.”  Mom gives me an approving look.

“Are you sure, Honey?  Three is the norm these days,” Sam suggests.

“I’m sure.” I reply.

Sam brings out a handheld device and does the deed.  She inserts silver studs and instructs me in the proper care and cleaning of the holes.  She really emphasizes the need to keep them clean and to turn the studs occasionally over the next few days in order to avoid infection.

About this point, everyone is looking a bit tired.  It has been a long night.  2am is late for all of us.

I am sent back to the waxing room to get dressed while mom pays the bill.

I am getting anxious.  Mom told me that there would be some answers and a decision before sunrise. I want to get to that part soon.

My biggest question is WHY? Or should I say, my biggest questions ARE why?  Why do I need to be a girl?  Why all the secrecy? Why the urgency?

The next questions, revolve around the HOW?  Obviously the process is reversible.  And it appears to be painless, but how did they do it?

Then there is the question about how this affects my summer plans.  Boy Scout camp is probably not the place for Kris.

As I finish dressing, Sam and mom come back to the waxing room.  Mom is holding a pretty good size bag of beauty supplies.

“I put together a basic hair care and makeup kit for you to take with you.”  Sam explains.  “Make sure that you use the makeup remover before going to bed.  You don’t want to smear this stuff all over your pillow you know.  It is a mess to clean up.  Amanda will be able to help you get into the skin care routine. I also included a blow drier and a brush as Amanda tells me that you didn’t bring one with you.  And when you can, come back and tell me what all the intrigue is about.  I am dying to know!”

Thanking her, I follow mom’s example in giving Sam a hug before she leads us to a back door which opens to an alley behind the shop. 

A black Mercedes GL-class SUV is waiting at the door.  For your information, this is nicer that anything the Quinn family has ever owned.  We quickly slide into the back seat.  The car leaves as soon as the door closes.  It is dark in the car, in part due to the tinted windows. I don’t recognize the driver.  Mom is at ease, so I guess that this was expected.

As we drive away from the salon, I notice that we are not in my home town on the east side of the valley.  We are actually in the neighboring town on the west side of the valley.  I have been here often.

I look over at mom for answers.  I see that she is smiling. 

“You look beautiful sweetheart.” She says. “Too bad it is time to give you to someone else for a season.”

It is time for answers.  I just hope that the answers don’t lead to more questions!

 

Many thanks to Gabi for helping this poor writer polish off this chapter!