I sit waiting. Shaggy and unpruned. Like a country rose bush gone wild. Daily morning ritual of mousse in hand trying desperately to tame the tresses.
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Each one in command of the mess. Each one trying to control and create a pleasing look. But each one failing. Failing not on their own merits, but on the lack of a good subject.
I sit waiting, with a ripped-out page in my hand. Can my mop top be transformed into this shiny professional beauty?
Can I look like her?
Can I take off 10 years?
Will my whole life be changed with this new style?
I sit waiting. Fidgeting in my seat. I contemplate. I know the advertisement has disillusioned me, like countless others.
Better life...more friends...more confidence...more appeal.
All with one amazing product, one article of clothing, or one hairstyle. I know the reality, but I still have hopes.
I sit waiting. I eagerly jump to the sound of my name. I saunter to the chair as I exclaim, “Just a quarter inch trim, please,” as I crumble my picture and stuff it in my purse.
My fears laugh at me as I think, “Foiled again!”
Maybe next time.
Barbara Denny lives in Clover.