Will my makeover, takeover? WEEK ONE
This is week one of a four-week experiment to understand if, by feeling more polished and groomed, I will feel better about myself. Will people pick up on this? Will they treat me differently? And, if they do, is it because of the way I look or because of the way I feel? Will I get “addicted” to this feeling? Will the makeover, takeover?
As I embarked on my little experiment, the first step was to schedule the appointments. In the name of practicality, I planned everything around my regular hairdresser’s appointment: a root touch-up which I schedule every three weeks. This is how it worked out.
Hair & Eyebrows
My hair appointment is typically slotted in on Thursdays during the magic hour: the precious time span between 1.30pm and 2.30pm - end-of-work and school-van-arrival. This is a time for errands, appointments and, sometimes, recalibrating between the shift from ‘work-me’ to ‘mummy-me’.
This time I did not dye-and-dash (leave the salon with dye in my hair). I stayed for a blow dry also.
So, the day before – the Wednesday – I slotted in the eyebrow tinting, again at the magic hour: 1.30pm.
When I got there, I insisted that I did not want anything too dark. “It must be subtle,” I repeated. (I’m not very good with change). So the very patient beautician made sure to remove the dye before the recommended 10 minutes were up. As I lay down in front of her, waiting for the time to pass, she asked me: “did you book upper lip?”
I smiled to myself. Ouch. One step forward, one step back.
When the alarm rang and she removed the dye, the result was very, very subtle. Minimal difference, in fact. A part of me wished I had trusted her more, and allowed her to leave the dye for the entire 10 minutes to see more of a change when I looked in the mirror.
But maybe I was distracted by the fact that my focus kept dropping to my upper lip.
This is my usual face. I actually took this photo by chance - to send to a friend I had not seen in a long time.
Nails
This was a first for me. I never had a gel manicure done. Booking this appointment was the most challenging, since the nail technician (who was recommended by a friend) is a working mum who only works in the mornings. Like me.
So there was a clash.
But we realised that, while my day starts at 9am, hers starts at 7am. So we slotted in an appointment at 8am on the Friday. Her salon is located between home and work. Another reason why I picked her.
She did what she had to do. I chose a natural colour because I was not sure how I would handle the regrowth. While she filed and buffed and painted - we chatted. Talking to her was very interesting. She has a small child and we spoke about the smiles and the struggles of being a working mum.
We also spoke about the changes a woman goes through after becoming a mother and I shared the meaning of ‘matrescence’ with her given that I had just written the article about this important transition from ‘woman’ to ‘mother’.
This is what I looked like after three appointments: hair, eyebrows, nails. I’m not trying to pose… I’m trying to show my hands.
Almost ready….
That done, my mini transformation was almost complete: eyebrows, hair and nails. The next step was to be taken on Monday – when I dressed the part. The plan was to wear my “good clothes” - the ones I save for special occasions that rarely happen - for every day.
As luck would have it, the first two days of my new look were spent – at home. I worked from home as it was school mid-term holidays.
Still, I enjoyed typing with my pretty hands. By Monday evening those hands had a new addition: an oven burn which happened while I tried to move a pie up a rack in the oven.
I love how life has a way of reminding us that, underneath any fluff, reality is what it is.
Behold… the oven burn.
This is how the universe keeps our feet firmly rooted to the ground. Fire burns all hands, manicured or not.
Monday was also the day when I gave in. My hair was feeling dirty and I could not imagine waiting till my next blow-dry on Thursday. I had to. I washed it. I made an effort to dry it best I could. The cold north wind helped as my hair did not puff up. Thank you rih fuq.
During these days I, of course, put my hands to work: washing dishes, floors, clothes, my child. And my nails remained intact. Wow. Love this.
But I’m already starting to see the nail regrowth and, somewhere at the back of my mind there is the unsettling feeling of having something to add to the ‘to do’ list. I need to fit in another appointment.
Stepping into the real world
Then came Wednesday.
With mid-term holidays over, I was going out into the world. I had to make the effort. Instead of wearing my staple leggings, knitted dress-top and flat boots, on Wednesday I wore black trousers, a black polo neck, camel jacket and high heels (mid, really).
I swapped my specs for contact lenses which is something I usually do on special occasions. This allowed me to wear my sunglasses, which had been in a drawer for about a decade.
No specs. I promise I’m wearing heels.
Driving to work in heels and sunglasses felt good, and less blinding. But by the time I drove back home, my eyes were dry because of the contacts and my feet were pleading for mercy.
That day I arrived home just minutes before the school van drove into our road. When the van door opened and my daughter saw me, her exact words were: “mummy you look weird”. She then lifted my sunglasses and said: “I prefer that.”
I’ll take it as a compliment.
On Thursday I, again, wore the heels and skinny trousers. Friday it was loose trousers, a warm jumper and low box-heels. That was the day when a couple of people commented that I looked different. One close friend actually said “I didn’t recognise you” as I walked past her. Mmmm…. not sure that’s a good thing.
And, as I was talking to a colleague about my experiment, she asked me how it’s going. This is what I told her…
Week one: The verdict
In the beginning of the week, I did not feel as different or as special as I thought I would. Might be for various reasons. Perhaps the subtle eyebrows and nails were not enough for me to feel a pop.
Apart from that, as I took the photos to share with you (which I refuse to filter) I realised that, without my specs, I feel like my face is more exposed, which makes me feel - to use my daughter’s word - weird.
I also realised that I felt more ‘special’ on Friday when I was wearing comfortable clothes I liked, rather than on Wednesday and Thursday, when I wore heels and clothes I thought I should like.
I wonder if next week will be different?