Such a Show Off
By Sabrina G. Langton

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Author's Note: Not really a story, just something that is a-happenin'. Just something that is keeping me up at night. Just figured I should tell someone...

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Hi.

I feel the need to show myself off all of a sudden.

I bought three items in the last month that are trying desperately to change my life.

1. A pair of Pleaser heels, black, six inches. Open toed, meaning I now had to paint my toenails constantly. I had to. The heels are something that I have wanted forever. Something that makes me shake a little as I slip them on. Why do heels weirdly affect me? They always have, stockings and pantyhose affect me the same. Why doesn't the same thing happen with sneakers? I have a friend who collects them, sneakers not Pleasers. He has at least two dozen on shelves in his man cave and he loves them but they do nothing for me. Nothing, not even a little. I don't shake when I see a pair of white, squeaky clean Converse.

2. Hibiscus Flower & Coconut Facial Wipes. I bought them at The Dollar Store. The same day I bought Ginger beer, trail mix, glycerine soap, and deodorant. I slipped in the wipes, then surprisingly I slipped in a tube of lipstick. A dark red with a lip gloss on the 360. It was an impulse. I was nervous going to the counter, I had a story if the cashier asked, I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I was back in my car. The lipstick was great, even though I always have trouble applying some, but the wipes, well that was a gift from god. Yes, that god. I remember using cotton balls, dozens, Q-tips, dozens more, now there were these wipes, wet, soaked with a magical mystery makeup remover. Where were these my entire life, why did I never see them, why did I not venture into The Dollar Store alone before?

3. A thirty-nine-dollar wig. I was so self-conscious clicking the 'buy me' button. It was something I needed and wanted, it was something that would help with my confidence. I ordered blonde. When it came on backorder four weeks later, I was quite surprised. First of all the package was on my desk in my little office. Someone had to put it there. I had two kids and a wife at home, I was embarrassed thinking about it. I hoped no one shook the bag, tried to guess what was inside, held it up to the light. I paid by money order, no trail by credit card, I was such a spy sometimes, a secret agent. I thought I was so cool coming up with this ruse, this new way to order by mail, ha, this was my own perfect idea.

I remember I was in my bathroom in the basement. Camera at the ready, the new lipstick and wipes within reach. I was ready for a wig. I haven't worn one in years, decades, even though my own hair was thinning. I just couldn't get the nerve to press that 'buy me' button. I opened the bag, it looked like nothing. I shook it out. I was confused, the wig was the exact same color as my hair. I am strawberry blonde, always, since I was young. I was picked on in school. It wasn't fun being a redhead in an Italian/Jewish neighborhood. I'm sure I have built a little character along the way, I was used to being bullied, yelled at, and thrown against AMC Pacers when I was a kid. It couldn't possibly only be about my hair, but maybe it was. It was long, it was perfect, when I was in my twenties I went and had it put up in rollers, curled, streaked, and layered. I didn't mind sitting in a salon with my friend while she was getting a blow-out or having her nails painted, but now, well, now is a different story. I don't leave the bathroom. Well of course I leave it, but I dress up mainly in front of this mirror, it is nice and big and there is so much light. I was still amazed the wig was my exact hair color. It looks darker sometimes, but it also looks lighter sometimes, it is perfect. It comes to my shoulders and always looks like it needs a good brushing. I don't brush it, it gets too static-y. I am messy, the wig is messy, personality wise it's a good fit.

I don't know why I all of a sudden need to show myself off. I think it might have something to do with the pair of heels or a resealable bag of wipes. But maybe not, maybe it is just the wig, or maybe it's because I feel I'm getting old, or maybe because there are so many 'girls' like me in the world. I am ready to join, I am ready to participate, I am ready to take one for the team. Mmm, but maybe not. I AM ready to go back to The Dollar Store. Next time I will wear my new wig, my new heels, the new dress that actually fits. I will pick up an extra lipstick and more wipes, I will even buy a package for the cashier.

"Thank you, have a nice day."

I will smile as I pack my own cloth bag, I will give a little wave goodbye. I will put the basket back with the others, clunk. I will wish I picked up some lip liner and eyebrow pencils. Once back in the car, I will smile at the strawberry blonde in my rearview mirror. I will tell her she looks messy and she will shrug. She will ask me why we have to show off all of a sudden, and it will be my turn to shrug.

I'm just glad she didn't ask me how we were getting home, how we were going to sneak in the front door, how we were going to pass by three other people on the way to my bathroom in my little office. Oh well, I realized she didn't want to make me nervous, she knew I had a plan. She also knew I wasn't really ready to show off.

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The End