Stepping in, I raise my arms and grab the bars. I reach over to flip the switch that alerts the technician that I’m ready to be sprayed. Closing my eyes and holding my breath, the first cold burst hits my skin. When the spray stops, count to five, turn and wait. Nothing happens. I count to five again, still nothing. I turn back around to see what is wrong and the spray hits my front side again, making it twice as dark on the front and still white on the back.
Exiting the booth, I blot the drops as instructed, to stop any running lines. I know I can’t stay like this, I poke my head out of the door to get the tech’s attention. When she comes to the door I explain what has happened, she instructs me that I need to get back in the booth with only my back facing the sprayers and let both cycles hit my backside so that it will be the same shade as my front side.
I get back in the booth and do as instructed, allowing both sprays to get my back. When I’m finished I’m twice as dark as I wanted to be but there is nothing I can do about it now. I flap my arms and move around the room to dry my skin.
Once it’s dry, I analyze myself in the mirror. Wow. With the melon color on my nails and my seriously dark skin, I look exotic, like I have been living in the tropics.
I like it.
Dressing and exiting the booth, I walk to the next station. Hair and make-up.
My stylist is named Michael and he is wonderful. He explains how fabulous my hair will be with some red low lights and dark blonde highlights. How adding layers will add texture and dimension to frame and show off my symmetrical face and tan.
He drapes a cape over the mirrors within my view claiming he wants to do a big reveal when he’s done. I feel like I’m on an episode of Extreme Makeover, the Tensanne Edition.
Ronnie, who is seated next to me, gives me a thumb’s up. With a fresh bag of frozen veggies shoved in between my legs, I say, “What the hell; give it your best, Michael.”
He foils my entire head, applying hair dye which makes my eyes burn, while my hair is coloring he begins to apply my makeup.
After checking to make sure my hair is the color he wants it, he directs me to the washing chairs. Removing the foils and massaging shampoo into my hair, I relax for the first time since entering the spa.
Once I’m seated back in his stylish chair he begins cutting away at my long, thick locks. Giving me a blowout, he teases and pulls, straightens and curls different sections of my hair.
When he’s done, he removes the coverings from the mirrors and spins my chair around.
“Oh, my God,” I gasp. Standing and getting closer to my reflection, “Is that me?”
The person staring back at me has a sultry smoky eye, lined in jet black. The coloring making the green come to life in my eyes. Contoured cheeks that make my cheekbones stand out and my hair is up with half pulled back and the other half in ringlet curls draping down my back.
“You are stunning,” Michael says, clapping with glee.
Tears brim in my eyes.
“No, no waterworks. You’ll ruin my masterpiece,” Michael warns.
Forcing back the tears, “Thank you. You made me beautiful.”
“No, honey. You were already stellar. I only highlighted it.”
Now we have been waxed, nailed, curled and tanned, Ronnie pays for our day and we drive back to the dorm to finish getting dressed.
She drops me off at the door, telling me she will see me soon.
Nerves are eating away at my insides, Kohl will be picking me up in less than an hour, I race upstairs to put on my dress. I have never felt so much like a woman as I do right now. My life has been about learning and studying. It feels good to take some pride in myself for once and discover there is a splendid woman under the layers of genius.
Shimmying my dress over my hips, it dawns on me that I like the person I am. All of me. Not only the one I see in the mirror right now but also the one that likes to study in her yoga pants, the one who rambles random thoughts and the one who will never be thin. Each version is me and altogether ‘me’ is magnificent.
Chapter Eighteen
Men may be from Mars but women are impossible
—Kohl’s inner thoughts
Kohl
AFTER PICKING UP my tux I Uber back to the dorm. My nerves have me pacing all over the place while my heart beats a steady tune from the bottom of my stomach.
Tonight is the night. Tonight, I will tell her how I feel.
Slipping on my pants and shirt, perfecting my tie, I tell the bats dancing on my insides to calm down and I leave my dorm. Waiting in the lot outside the door is a black Lincoln Town Car with a man in a suit standing by the door.
Glancing to him, I grab my phone to open the Uber app realizing, for the first time, what a pain in the ass it is to not have a car on campus.
“Mr. Black?” the man by the car calls.
“Yes,” I respond watching him open the back door of the car.
“Your chariot awaits,” he informs me. “Compliments of Mayor Leeland.”
“Well, alright then. Let’s go get my date,” I grin sliding into the backseat enjoying the lush feel of the seats.
Once we reach her dorm, my nerves are at an all-time high. Sweat beads on my forehead and I keep having to dry my palms on my pants, hell I’m not this anxious before
