Sandy frowned. She wasn’t sure she
was
that woman, actually, but she figured it’d be unwise to contradict her new boss on that point. What she did argue was “I
just don’t see how makeup or a new hairstyle can convey that kind of message.”
Angelica sat up straighter and smiled in a way that Sandy couldn’t help thinking was triumphant. “I’ll show you. Do you have
a couple of free hours this afternoon?”
I
N THE SAME
amount of time that it’d taken Cinderella to ride her pumpkin to the castle, probably, Sandy found herself at her optometrist’s
office, picking up a copy of her prescription, and then at Angelica’s optometrist’s office, picking out new frames.
“These,” said Angelica, holding up the same dark-rimmed pair that the blond in one of the display posters was wearing.
Sandy modeled them in front of the mirror but was unable to gauge the effect without her own glasses on. She took them off
and read the price tag. “There’s no way I could afford these.”
“Don’t worry,” said Angelica, brandishing a silvery credit card. “Corporate expense.”
Next stop was a salon all the way down in Brody Oaks, where the receptionist knew Angelica by name and a stylist in a white
lab coat immediately ran over to kiss her on the cheek. “What have we here?” he said, eyeing Sandy like a golden cat standing
over a dazed mouse.
Angelica touched Sandy’s shoulder and said, “Makeover.”
The stylist spun Sandy like a dancer, pulling the elastic band from her head and running his fingers through her hair all
in one graceful move.
“Mm,” was all he said. Then, “What are we thinking?”
Angelica leaned forward and spoke quietly, but not quietly enough to keep Sandy from hearing. “I’m thinking sexy librarian,
but not
too sexy
librarian.”
“Tina Fey, but sleeker? Eva Peron, but alive?”
“Exactly. I
knew
you’d understand, Rod.”
Rod took Sandy’s hand and started to lead her to the back of the salon. But Sandy dug in her heels. She pulled her hand away
and protectively touched her glasses, her hair, her glasses again.
Something in the pit of her stomach was telling her this was wrong. Whatever they wanted her to be, she wasn’t sure she could
pull it off. She was already stretching her limits by writing things she’d never learned to write in J school. But now Angelica
was asking her to be someone else.
Sandy knew she could write anything, learn anything, understand anything that anyone put before her. But she wasn’t at all
sure that she could be what Angelica was asking, or even fake it. Sandy was afraid she couldn’t deliver. She was afraid she
would fail.
“Sandy,” Angelica said, putting her hand on the younger woman’s shoulder again. “Trust me. I promise you’re going to like
it. And, if you don’t, I promise that you can go right back to the way you were.”
“It’s not that I don’t think it’ll look good,” Sandy said. “It’s just that… I’m not sure I can
change
.”
What would Daniel say? she suddenly wondered. He’d say he’d told her so, that this job wasn’t about her writing or her intellect,
but something crass and shallow.
She imagined him reacting to a more polished—no, a
sexier
Sandy. Would he think she looked shallow? Or would he be more upset that she no longer looked like one of his adoring students?
Again Sandy felt the impulse to rebel against Daniel’s ideas of what she should be.
What would her mother say? Sandy grimaced. Probably that Angelica wasn’t going far
enough
. If her mom were there, she’d consider this a dream come true. A free makeover, by the editor of
Mujer
? Her mom would be crying out for tacky blond highlights and rhinestoned, two-tone nails.
Thinking of it that way, Sandy felt her impulse reverse. There was nothing wrong with the way she was now. Why should she
change?
“I’m not asking you to change,” Angelica murmured into her ear, as if she could read Sandy’s mind. “I just want to bring out
what’s already there. Show everyone who Sandy Saavedra really is.”
With that the balance was finally tipped. Sandy let them lead her to the inner room of the salon, to find her new, real self.
Reader comments on My Modern TragiComedy, Tuesday, March 28
I found your blog by searching for information on divorced parents. What you said, I totally agree with. I feel the same way
about my mom and dad sometimes. Thank you for writing it. It’s good to know I’m not alone.
Comment left by:
Anonymous
OMG, you go girl! I’ve been thinking for a while now that HTG Boy doesn’t appreciate you enough! He’d better watch his step
or else he won’t have you around to take for granted anymore!
Comment left by:
Pilot Girl
Hi, TragiComic Girl. Keep your chin up. Hopefully HTGB will come around soon.:)
Comment left by:
Sunny B
T
he latest blog comments were very touching. Plus Sandy had apparently gained a new reader. But, for a split second, she regretted
saying what she had about Daniel. She’d been angry at the time and had been overcome by the desire to vent.
Now that she
had
vented, now that she sat on her sofa, re-reading her words from the other night, they sounded pretty harsh. Daniel was annoying
sometimes, but he wasn’t
that
bad. Was he?
Sandy wondered if she should delete that blog entry now that it no longer expressed her current feelings.
But then, she realized, she’d have leftover comments from readers relating to that entry. So she’d have to delete those, too.
And, somehow, it seemed wrong to delete readers’ comments once they’d been posted. It seemed unethical. She was sure, in fact,
that there was an applicable rule somewhere in one of her old journalism textbooks.
The thing to do, she decided, was to print a retraction. She would post another entry, explaining that she’d been angry and
had overreacted, and that HeartThrob Geek-Boy was actually a pretty good guy. She’d write that for her very next entry.
But not right now. First she needed to finish some work for QBS Systems and e-mail it to her supervisor there. Then she needed
to go to QBS physically and renew her contract. Then she needed to hurry back downtown for a noon meeting at Nacho Papi.
But before she did any of that, she needed to e-mail Veronica and Jane a picture of her new hair. And, after scrolling through
all the pictures she’d uploaded the night before and picking the best one, she did just that.
Jane was at work at the Capitol already, which meant she was already goofing off online. She replied immediately: OMG, is
that you? You look fabulous!
Sandy was pleased, to say the least. They volleyed a few e-mails back and forth, catching up, and then Sandy got back to work
in earnest.
“J
ESUS
M
OTHER
M
ARY
, Sandy, is that you? You look beautiful!”
Whereas Jane’s comment had looked moderately enthusiastic on the screen, Sandy’s mother sounded, in the driveway, like she
was about to burst into tears. She ran up to her daughter as if they’d just won the lottery and gave her a big, disproportionately
emotional hug. “Oh my gosh, oh my Jesus! Baby, I’m so happy for you! I’m so glad!”
“Mom! Quit. You’re freaking me out.”
Her mother made a visible effort to get hold of herself. “When did you do it? Last night? Where’d you go? Oh my gosh, you
got new glasses, too! Sandy, what happened? Did you get a raise? Wait—did Danny break up with you?” Within this one paragraph,
her mother’s voice had gotten loud again.
“What? No. Why would we have broken up? Why would
he
have broken up with
me
?”
“You know. I just meant, how sometimes, when women break up with someone, they suddenly start caring about how they look again.
Or for the first time. Or—you know. Whatever. So what happened?”
Sandy decided to overlook her mother’s verbal blunders. “Nothing. Angelica, my new boss, is having me do some interviews on
camera for the site, and we wanted to change my look a little. That’s all.”
“Oh, Sandy. You mean you got a
Mujer
makeover? For free?”
“For free, yes. Related to the magazine Angelica used to edit, no.” Sandy would have laughed at her mother responding exactly
as she’d predicted if that reaction weren’t so exasperating.
“Let me see.” Mrs. Saavedra gently touched the new shoulder-length inverted bob, which Sandy hadn’t even had to blow out that
morning, thanks to her naturally stick-straight locks. “You always had your daddy’s hair. Indio hair,” her mother said, shaking
her head. “But it looks good like this. Let me see your eyes.”
Sandy dutifully closed her eyes so that her mother could see that slightest dusting of taupe powder and the thinnest line
of black liner on her eyelids.
“Pretty!” her mother breathed. Next she examined Sandy’s silk blouse, pencil skirt, and high-heeled mary janes. Angelica’s
two-hour makeover had led to a full evening of shopping. Sandy had let her boss pay for a few items of clothing, pretending
it was a sort of required uniform, but then ended up picking out many more things to buy for herself. It was strange, she’d
never really enjoyed shopping with her mother or even with her friend Jane. But with Angelica it was different. Her boss knew
boutiques Sandy had never visited, and her shopping technique involved getting in, grabbing the good stuff, and getting back
out in one streamlined process. It had been a whole new experience for Sandy—one she hoped wouldn’t become an expensive habit.
“Why didn’t you get a new bag, too, though?” Mrs. Saavedra touched the olive green corduroy work bag that hung on Sandy’s
shoulder from its black canvas strap.
“Because I like this one. I’m used to it. It has the perfect number of pockets and the strap is the perfect length.” Sandy
had carried that bag for so long it felt like part of her body, sometimes.
Her mother blinked but said nothing. She herself preferred snakeskin. Kind of like the purses Angelica carried, but in patent
vinyl instead of real leather. Apparently realizing there was no accounting for taste in the end, she went on. “I’m so proud
of you, m’ija. You look so beautiful. Like a real lady.”
Sandy was a little disconcerted. This was the first time in a long while that her mother had expressed pride in her. The last
time must have been at Sandy’s college graduation. But even then her mother hadn’t sounded this sincere.
Here she was, proud of Sandy because she was wearing makeup and nice clothes. It was more than a little unsettling—it was
downright annoying. But Sandy shrugged it off, not wanting to ruin the moment. Instead, she returned her mother’s hug. Then
she disentangled herself and drove away to work.
“W
HOA
! W
HO ARE
you and what did you do with Sandy?” George practically bellowed as she walked into the office, ensuring that all their co-workers
would turn and stare. “I mean, I know it’s almost April Fool’s Day, but this is some joke.” He laughed at his own wit but
no one joined him.
“You look good, Sandy,” Lori said, throwing George a scornful look.
“Yeah,” Francisco chimed in, sounding somewhat in awe. “You look great.”
“Thank you.” Sandy used her most gracious tone and majestically took her place at the staff table, where she got to work unpacking
her laptop.
“Hey, that’s what I meant, too. I was just kidding. You know that, right?” George asked, more to the room at large than to
Sandy herself.
Everyone fell silent when Angelica emerged from her office to start their meeting. Sandy braced herself, in case their editor
was about to make an announcement about her makeover or otherwise call more attention to Sandy’s new look. Instead, however,
Angelica smiled and greeted everyone as normal. Right before launching into her agenda, however, she gave Sandy an almost
undetectable wink.
Sandy smiled and looked down at her laptop screen. This makeover, she decided, had turned out to be a good thing.
Time: Wednesday, April 5, 8:12 AM
To: Nacho Papi Team
From: Angelica Villanueva O’Sullivan
Subject: MEMORANDUM
Per our last meeting and one-on-ones, here are items that require follow-up:
1.
New banner ads: Francisco
, please run our new Limonveza banners on test site to make sure they work.
Sandy
, please revise your lime-flavored product post to reference Limonveza in a more positive way, now that they are a sponsor.
2.
New “in-line” sponsor: George
and
Lori
: As we discussed, you are each to mention Thuggin’ jeans once within the next week. Keep it natural-sounding.
3.
New writer:
Philippe Montemayor is flying in this weekend and will join us on Monday.
4.
New assignments: Lori
and
Francisco
, you are going to San Antonio tomorrow to cover Iguana Cantina.
George
, you are covering the leaked Minute Men memo.
Philippe
, you are turning in the expose on Heather Santiago’s wedding freebies.
Sandy
, you are researching the Chupacabra story for angles.
Please notify me if you are unable to complete your assignments. Thank you all. You’re doing a great job and I know you’ll
do even better in the coming weeks.
One more thing: Everyone, please do not mention local bars and restaurants more than once per month, regardless of how many
free drinks they’re giving you, unless they have purchased sponsor packages from the site.
Cordially yours,
AVO
Blog entry from My Modern TragiComedy, Thursday, April 6
So I had to get a makeover for my new job. Don’t hate me because I’m shallow, but I really like it. I had my doubts when my
boss first suggested it. But I have to say that it feels pretty good to look pretty. Pretti
er
. Instead of just witty and bright, you know? I’m no bombshell, but the drag worms are actually complimenting me when they
panhandle now. Instead of just saying “Hey, brainy girl, got a dollar?” like they used to.