When she was young, really young, she had read, completely by accident, Balzac’s A woman of thirty (La Femme de Trente Ans).
She was so young then, thirty seemed like ages and ages away. And ‘Take A Look At Me Now!’, the song flowed through her mind. She was double that and some more on top. Where did time go? What happened with all that expanse that lay between her teenage years and being thirty, not dare say sixty-three?
She had read an article recently in which a woman was saying that she is happy to advance in years and become invisible. That can be, she does not know the article writer to be sure it is really true or not, but the article made her give this some thought.
Was she happy to start fading? To stop getting noticed? She hadn’t been too noticeable before, so now she was just slowly starting to melt into the background. Was she happy with that? Was there indeed freedom in it?
She thought about it and decided decidedly that no, she was not ready to disappear before her time. When she was dead, then it was ok for her to fade, but while she still had some ‘juice flowing through her veins’, she giggled to herself when she thought that, she will do something about it.
What to do though?
She put her tea mug down on the counter and went to the mirror in the hallway. Not too thin, not too fat. Hair with big patches of grey and some strands of faded chestnut. Her skin soft and squishy, with some weird hairs.
She had never gone to a beauty salon, that is an experience she would like to have.
Without pondering too much she slipped into her shoes, got her coat and handbag and left the house.
The weather was glorious, birds singing, the air reminding you of recent rain, she walked slowly taking it all in and enjoying it more than she would usually do.
This morning reminded her of a different one, wet and cold, when she got on a train leaving home to go study in Dublin. She was so young, excited and frightened of the opportunities and the unknown. She cared so much about everything and felt it so intensely. That is youth for you.
Lost in her thoughts she got to the center of town just as the Salon sign was being flipped to open.
With her heart small with apprehension in her chest she opened the door and was startled by a loud bell going off with her passing over the threshold.
‘Hi there! Have a seat. I won’t be a minute!’
The voice was coming from behind a curtain in the back of the Salon. Not being sure where to sit, she just sat on a small stool close to the door.
Almost immediately a tall, round woman, with a big bunch of hair came to greet her.
‘Hya love! Look at you sitting on Chrissy’s spot, he will not appreciate that, he is very possessive of his space!’
As it turned out Chrissy was this huge grey-blueish tom cat, that came trailing behind and jumped on his stool as soon as it was vacated. With satisfaction and ownership he curled up taking up all the space.
‘That is a big cat!
The woman smiled looking affectionately at him.
‘Yeah, he is my buddy! He listens to everything I say and I swear I think sometimes he understands it!’
‘So, what should we do for you then?’
She had to confess she did not know. Just a change, something different.
The woman looked at her with an expert eye and took over confidently.
Almost two relaxing and fun hours later she was stepping out leaving the noisy bell behind. She waved back to the uncaring cat and thanked deeply to the woman that had known exactly what she needed.
She was now walking confidently back home with, shiny, bouncy chestnut hair, and with a fresh face that felt like it had gotten a new layer of skin. No more chin hairs, or strange little bumps. She had gotten a complete facial and her face, although stinging a bit, felt fresh and revitalized.
Right before turning on her street she ran into Mrs. O’Neil.
‘What is the occasion?’
‘No, nothing, just needed a bit of sprucing up!’
‘Aham…’
Mrs. O’Neil made her smile confirming that the change was visible.
Back in the house she stopped in front of the hall mirror and looked at herself. It was strange how different she looked compared to just a few hours before.
The floor squeaking above signaled that it was time for another cup of tea.
While going about it, she wondered, if maybe, there is a book out there about A woman of sixy, or even just a story.
That is something to look into and forward to.
Anyway, if there isn’t any, she could give it a go, no?
‘Nothing's stopping me’, she hummed while getting breakfast on.
