going to the gym or a hair salon. You might be surprised by the attention changing your appearance brings. Tonight: Try something different.
I’m a complete idiot! I didn’t go out with Victoria and the others last night because I was a good girl and listened to Horoscope who told me to curl up with a good book. I stopped at the used book store on my way home from work and picked up a romance the clerk recommended. I’m a sucker for a good romance, and this one had me turning pages into the early morning hours. I love happy endings, or at least a sliver of hope the relationship is headed in the right direction. And this book delivered. Of course, had I known that Hottie Advertising Guy would be at the same bar as my friends, I would’ve ditched the book for a shot at my own happily ever after.
I couldn’t believe it when Victoria called to give me a recap of last night.
“You’ll never guess who was at Joe’s,” she yelled into the phone.
I held the phone several inches from my ear. “Stop yelling?”
“Sorry.” Victoria talked softer. “But guess who came in?”
“The guy you met in the biography section at the bookstore?”
“No.”
“The cop you talked into giving you a warning instead of a speeding ticket.”
“No. Christ, Sydney. It’s not someone I’m interested in. It’s someone you’re interested in, although I would be interested in him if you weren’t. So if you change your mind about him, let me know.”
“Hottie Advertising Guy?”
“Yep. And he looked absolutely dreamy.”
“Damn. Wish I hadn’t listened to my horoscope.”
“Told you that idea was silly.”
“Was he with anyone?”
“No girl if that’s what you’re asking. He was with another guy from the ad department. The bald giant with the size fourteen shoes.”
“Dennis?”
“Yeah, him. Hottie looks like a toddler next to Dennis.”
“Dennis is nice,” I said.
“I didn’t say he wasn’t, but my entire body could fit into one of his pant legs. Jesus, what size do you think he wears anyway?”
“Hell, I don’t know. What was Hottie wearing?”
“Jeans, Oxford blue shirt.”
“Tucked in or out?”
“Out. And the sleeves were rolled up. I’m telling you he looked hot.”
“Hands off, Victoria. You promised.”
Victoria sighed. “I’m not going to go after him, Sydney. Unless, of course, you decide you’re no longer interested in him.”
I’ve never met anyone quite like Victoria. She’s a slut, but a great slut. She’s definitely the horniest woman I’ve ever met and admits she lost count of her sexual partners by the time she was sixteen. At that age, my make-out sessions consisted of kissing and some light petting. I’ve learned a lot from Victoria over the past year and in some weird way, I admire her. She’s bold and comfortable with her sexuality and that’s something I’ve always struggled a bit with. I’m always afraid that when a guy sees me naked he’ll mock me. Aside from my hammer toe, one of my breasts is noticeably larger than the other.
Victoria’s news bummed me big time. As much as I liked the book, I would’ve liked seeing Hottie at the bar more. Maybe she was right. Maybe this horoscope thing is stupid. Just as I began to mentally list the reasons why following my horoscope was a dumb idea, I glanced down at the newspaper. I had opened it to the horoscope page when Victoria called. I read Cancer’s entry and when it said what I’d been thinking, I decided to keep the faith – at least for another day.
My hair has been driving me insane for a few weeks. I was going to let it grow out but it’s at that in-between stage and I don’t think I can stand to look in a mirror one more time and see the tangled mess of black curls. As an aside, I’ve got to be the only adult who still uses a child’s detangling spray. Seriously. When I was little, Mom couldn’t get through my hair without it. Trying to calm my curls without drowning them in detangling spray is downright dangerous for the comb. And now that my hair is getting longer, the tangles are becoming even more tangled. It’d be very easy for me to grow dreadlocks, which I’ve never seriously considered even though Victoria thinks I should.
So today’s horoscope suggesting the makeover was just the push I needed. After the gym, I planned to hit the salon and see what can be done about this unruly mop. Maybe I’ll even ask for some highlights. Pink or blue would be perfect. I needed a makeover.
For a Saturday morning, the gym was packed. I found the only free treadmill and it was wet with sweat. Gross! Why are some people pigs? Seriously. You’re supposed to wipe off the machine when you’re done exercising but obviously some idiot didn’t. So I got some wipes and cleaned it off. It made me gag. I’m a bit neurotic when it comes to public surfaces anyway, and actually seeing the sweat on the machine made me itch.
About forty minutes into my run, I spotted Hottie Advertising Guy across the gym. I’d never seen him here before, but I wasn’t surprised he was a member because we had a company discount.
My throat tightened as he walked towards me. Sweat dripped from my face and onto the treadmill. My shirt and shorts were soaked. I nonchalantly sniffed my armpit and confirmed it smelled like sweaty socks.
Maybe he won’t recognize me, I thought. He’s never seen my hair in a ponytail. But that also means he’s never seen my pointy elf ears. I felt like a fly caught in a spider web. I was stuck, unable to move, waiting for hope to be sucked out of me.
I looked down. Keep going. Keep going. Don’t stop. You do not see me. That’s it. Walk on by.
“Hey Jason!”
Hottie Advertising Guy turned around.
A guy dressed like he was a walking ad for Nike yelled, “Can you spot me?”
Thank God! Hottie Advertising Guy turned around to help Nike Man lift weights.
I took a sip of water and checked to see how many calories I’d burned. Oh, shit! It was 666. I loathe that number. I increased the speed on the treadmill so the counter would change.
Normally, I’d lift weights after finishing my run on the treadmill. But I didn’t want to take the chance Hottie would see me all sweaty and stinky, so I bagged that part of my workout. Instead, I hit the sauna before showering and going to the salon.
Stephen ran his slender fingers through my mess of black curls. He’s been doing my hair for a year now and we hit it off almost immediately. Too bad he prefers guys. I usually go about every five weeks but I hadn’t seen him for a while.
“So what do you think?”
He shook his head. “It looks like shit, but it’s not a lost cause.”
I
