Sapphic Voices General Fiction

Looking Perfect Either Way

She wakes up 3 minutes before her alarm goes off. Leah had been doing that a lot lately. And whether it was anxiety or a sixth sense or just plain luck, it is damn nice. Not to have to hear the alarm. Not to be woken up to well timed, high pitched beeps that sound nothing like Good Morning. Sometimes it is three hours before the alarm is to go off. And that is the most euphoric feeling Leah can imagine. Thinking it is time to get up and seeing she has 3 more hours to spend safely tucked away – her head resting against her orange scented pillow.

Leah struggles to find her way out of her warm, 350 count sheets and her soft down comforter. Her room is her solace. Lavender and sage – colors that evoke scents. In her effort to find her way out of the fabric and pillows, Leah brushes against her cat, who seems even less enthused than Leah to be waking up already. It had taken her 3 hours to fall asleep the night before. Leah, not her cat. But each time Leah stirred, the cat twitched slightly, and once in a while shot Leah a thoroughly annoyed look. And when Leah would lie still, the cat would purr a constant stream of dreams. And eventually the purring lulled Leah to sleep.

Without bothering to put on her slippers, Leah fumbles her way to the shower. Decisions. Curly hair shampoo or straight hair shampoo. The former is easier. Wash and apply some products and go. But it is a gamble. Looks different every time. And she’ll have to wash it again tomorrow. Straight shampoo is more work because it requires a blow dryer and at least 25 minutes more time, but she won’t have to wash it again tomorrow. She decides work this morning will allow her to sleep for longer tomorrow.

Lathering her spongy puff with oatmeal body wash, Leah moves in a circular motion across her body. Her breasts, her stomach, one leg and then the other. Her back, her neck. Her arms are last. One and then the other. Her right arm is the only one she washes with her left hand.

Leah revels in the feeling of the suds dripping down the small of her back. In t he shower she feels whole. Connected. In the heat and water and steam and scents.

First shampoo and then conditioner. The straight shampoo smells more like chemicals than the curly shampoo, and Leah wishes she had chosen the other. But it is too late now to change and so she rushes through the rest of her hair regimen. Leaving conditioner in her hair, Leah picks up her razor and her oatmeal shaving cream. The razor she places on the window sill next to the cap from the cream. Lathering the cream between her hands, she applies it first to the front of her leg, then to the back and then the sides. She winces at the pricks from the stubble on her legs. More than once Leah has flirted with the idea of laser hair removal. To be done with this. To save her time. But right now it is what she needs to do. She picks up the razor and starts with the outer side of her leg, close to the ankle. Upward strokes toward the back. Then the front. Then the inside. The knee is always tricky. Up or down? Sideways? And the back of the knee or the inner thigh, where the hair grows in all directions at once. When she is done, Leah runs her fingers up and down the smooth landscape of her legs. She rinses the conditioner from her hair, washes her face, exfoliates and turns off the water. Drying off only for a moment so that she can smooth almond and oatmeal oil onto her legs before they are dry. The only thing she has found that prevents the fire that likes to invade her skin after she has shaved or showered.

Leah wraps herself in her pure white cotton robe and wraps and extra absorbent towel around her hair. She can’t wait for her hair to grow long enough to put back in a ponytail. An unusual moment of spontaneity convinced her to cut it off last spring and Leah has been annoyed and impatient ever since.

She decides today she will wear a skirt. A pink skirt and a black tank top with a soft black cardigan. When Leah has those days of torment with her body, she knows she feels better dressed up. And even better at the end of the day when the heels and pantyhose come off and the sweat pants and super soft cotton shirt and slippers come on and she can snuggle with her cat in her bed before doing her work.

One leg at a time, the way her mother had taught her, she glides the hose on and the corners of her mouth turn upward as she admires the smooth silhouette of her newly shaven legs under the sheen of the nylon and takes great pride in not having encountered any snags. Because then she would have to rethink the whole plan. She pulls on her soft pink skirt and, zipping up the side closure, exhales when she notices that it still fits perfectly around her hips and waist. Which bra. Sexy black or practical beige. Leah slides one arm at a time through the silky black straps and closes the hooks on the second row in the back. Slips on the tight black tank top and the soft black cardigan and flirts with herself in t he mirror, winking at the beautiful A line the outfit makes against her body.

Applies a cabinet full of product to her hair, blows it dry one section at a time. Fruity and fresh smelling hair shine. She runs her fingers through the softness of her straight and bouncy hair. A good hair day. Thank god. Glad that she chose straight instead of curly, she packs a quick lunch and pretends to make her bed. She’ll put makeup on in the car. The yellow concealer dabbed under her eyes and on top of each blemish. The beige foundation under the pressed powder and the pink powder under each brow. Darker pink and lavender on the lids as she waits in traffic. She amazes even herself as she pulls the tweezers out of her nail kit and plucks a hair at a time from the lines of her brows before the light turns green. Once at work, the lip balm and then lipstick get brushed onto the surface of her lips. And then the gloss. Loving the waxy smell of the gloss under her nose. And Leah rubs them together and looks in her rearview mirror. She pouts and then smiles, making sure her lips look perfect either way.

If you have enjoyed Lani Radack's "Looking Perfect Either Way", then please be certain to e-mail her at  radacklani[at]hotmail.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

Click here for a list of all of Lani Radack's  Stories and Poetry at  Sapphic Voices Authoresses.

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