Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1301.

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The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 1301
by Angharad

Copyright © 2011 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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I relaxed in the salon chair as the girl washed my hair prior to one of the stylists cutting it. The place was very well appointed and equipped, and I wondered if Julie would like to work here when she was qualified.

A towel was draped over my hair and tucked under it at the back and I was led back to the stylist’s station. The stylist was a Scots girl called Morag, and was, according to the hotel reception staff, ‘the best there is.’

It was two thirty and Simon was busy watching his rugby. I was having Morag, fiddle with my hair and tut loudly. She spoke with a very quiet accent as she combed my hair out, and began cutting it.

Once that was done, she donned her rubber gloves and placed a small rubber or plastic hat on my still wet hair and began picking hairs through it. She had recommended highlights, so who was I to disagree?

I’d booked in under the name, Cathy Watts, which was a legitimate one and I’d done it to prevent my married name influencing anything. I wanted to see how good this stylist was, so far she’d impressed me with her dancing hands and relaxing conversation.

“So what d’you do, Cathy?” she asked me.

“When I’m working, I teach ecology and field biology at Portsmouth, uni.”

“That sounds really interesting.”

“It is, but at the moment, I’m a bit tied up with looking after my kids, the youngest is only seven months old.”

“Are you still feeding her?”

“Yes, although she’s taking some solids as well, which she tucks into with relish.”

“What’s her name?”

“Catherine.”

“The same as you?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“Och, don’t be afraid for naming your daughter after yourself, at least she’ll know who you were.”

“I hope so.” I had the unpleasant thought slip into my mind, what would happen to her if I died before she was old enough to remember me? That would be two mothers she’d have lost and a totally terrible thought.

I was rinsed out after about twenty minutes and my hair set in big rollers. I settled for a set rather than a perm, although it would only have been something like a demi-wave and I have enough body in my hair already.

While my hair was air drying, I was led to another part of the salon, and laid back in a reclining chair while someone did a facial on me. I was so relaxed, that when they did my manicure, I was nearly asleep and offered my hands without any resistance.

I lay there with all sorts of gloop on my face and slices of cucumber carefully placed on my eyelids, and my mind somewhere else. I hoped I didn’t snore too loudly. We’d only had a light lunch so I was half aware my tummy was rumbling, but with the various driers and other things buzzing away in the distance, I hoped no one would hear it.

I felt someone shaking my arm, “Just goin’ to take all this cream off your face now, Cathy.” I think I mumbled something in reply because she removed the cucumber and began wiping the gunk off my skin.

My makeup was then done, although I wasn’t too struck on having skin makeup done–I never use it. My hair was finished and I was more than aware of the feel of stuff on my face. It seemed ironic that they’d used all these cleansers and toners and face masks and so on; then plastered all this crap on my lovely moisturised skin.

Okay, I looked very sophisticated and elegant but I felt like a painted doll, like someone in one of those tranny fantasies–I suppose to some extent I was living one, except I thought of myself as an ordinary woman, who wore a bit of lippy, some mascara and occasionally eyeliner. If I was going somewhere I wanted to make an impression, I’d use blusher to highlight my cheekbones, but otherwise I didn’t bother. I did get my hair cut fairly regularly and I always wore good perfume, and my makeup was quality stuff as well.

Morag finished my hair after removing the rollers and combing me out and brushing it into the style we’d agreed. I’d opted not to have my hair up but to allow it to stay down and free. It was shining really well and the auburn highlights, looked really natural. My hair looked really good, hanging down to my shoulders and beyond, but meeting under my chin in the front.

My fingers now sported a pearlised pink varnish to match my lips and I’d forgotten how long it had been since I’d painted them myself. Something which made me smile to myself was that I used to paint them regularly when I was sitting alone in my bedsit and had to clean them off for the next morning or certainly after a weekend–and now when I could paint them with impunity, I didn’t because I didn’t have time–ironic or what?

I signed the chit, which would go on the room account. “Which room, Mrs Watts?”

“The Belgravia suite,” I had to tell the truth this time.

“Oh, that’s one of the Cameron’s suites–are you staying with them?”

“Yes,” I smiled and blushed.

“Oh, Lord Simon is there at the moment.”

“Yes, he’s my husband.”

“Oh, my goodness, I’m sorry, Lady Cameron–I should have known.”

“No, I deliberately didn’t want any favouritism which was why I used my maiden name.”

“I hope everything has been satisfactory, Lady Cameron?”

“Entirely, and I’m leaving a tip for all of you.”

“Thank you, Lady Cameron.”

“Where’s Lady Cameron?” asked Morag walking up to the desk.

“This is, Lady Cameron,” said the receptionist.

“Och, why didnae I ken that–of course, the dormouse lady.” Her accent returned more strongly when she was taken aback. We chatted for a few minutes and I reassured her I wasn’t on any undercover mission to report back to anyone, other than to say I’d been treated very well. She went off to see another client and I left the salon slipping quickly back to the suite because I felt self conscious with all the makeup on. It almost reminded me of the old days when I’d slip out to post a letter at eleven o’clock at night and hope no one saw me in my skirt and modest heels.

Simon was so engrossed in the rugby, he didn’t even look at me when I went in. I made us some tea and he casually looked at me when he accepted the tea. He looked back at the screen and then back at me. “Crikey, Babes, you look hot.”

“It is warm in here,” I agreed.

“No, hot as in smokin’.”

“I don’t smoke–never have, can’t stand it.”

“No, you look like a totally hot babe, get me?”

“I feel like a painted trollop.”

“No, it looks really sophisticated.”

“I’m not sure I can stand all this stuff on my face for the rest of the day.”

“Yay,” Smon jumped up and bounced about, “We won,” he danced about and I had to move his cup of tea before he knocked it over.

“What, England won?”

“England? Who are they? I was watching Scotland beat Italy.”

“Oh, I thought you supported England,” I said and ducked into the bathroom before he could grab me.

I looked at my painted face in the mirror and pulling out a couple of wet wipes, began to rub the foul stuff off my face. I felt so much better once I cleaned it all off and them wiped my face in my flannel and towel. I stepped back out into the sitting room and he looked up at me.

“What happened to the makeup?”

“It felt horrible.”

“Want me to complain?”

“No, there was nothing wrong with it, I just didn’t like the feel of it on my face–it felt like a mask.”

“It looked pretty good, I wished I’d got a photo of it.”

“Nah, let’s leave the sophisticated tart look for them who likes it, shall we,” I said kissing him.

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Comments

Cathy is lucky she has such

Cathy is lucky she has such a good complexion that she can look nice with a minimum of make-up. It is interesting that as I have spent more time as myself, I find that I care less for warpaint as well, liking a more natural look. But then I'm not on the prowl like some either, and being me completely I feel less like needing the camo.

Good chapter, and does give a bit more insight into Cathy from a different perspective. Poor Morag may think her efforts weren't appreciated though, if she sees Cathy now.

CaroL

CaroL

My God!

She's just had a makeover to end all makeovers and then she washes it off without once having gone anywhere decent to show it off.

The girl's mad I tell you maa-aad.

That would break my heart! (Must be the tranny side in me but the transexual parts would savour it as well. I know they would... They just would!)

Am I missing something here?

Lovin' it Angie. Just lovin' it.

Hugs.

Beverly.

Growing old disgracefully.

bev_1.jpg

Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1301

Like how Cathy made sure that she was not fawned over.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Salon treatment sounded good

but understand Cathy deciding to remove makeup. Don't like morbid thoughts like what if little Catherine loses another mother. Glad Simon didn't make a fus about the makeup. Also wish they'd taken a picture.

Interesting comment...

Interesting comment on many things - makeup/nails/etc. I found it fascinating. My older daughter does the "war paint" big time (not that you can really notice, as she does a good job) when going "out"... I tend to just use concealer, maybe some mascara & maybe some eye liner... 25 years ago, I was doing a lot more. eye shadow/lippy/blush. Hmmm. Something to think about. (Why the concealer, you may ask... Okay, you may not ask, but I'll tell you anyway. LOL. I have some large vitalaigo patches on my face... *sighs* I wear the concealer even in guy mode - as it significantly reduces the number of times I have to "explain" the round "albino" patches...)

But, back to the story... I think Simon was right, they should have gotten a photo of the "painted lady"... Before it was removed. If for no reason than "historical"... 20 years from now, the kids would like to see mummy all made up. :-)

Hmmm. I don't want to think of the number of words written on this saga, if we went another 20 years! (Not that many would mind reading though... LOL It's been a lot of "fun".)

Thanks,
Anne

Make over at Southern Comfort.

In a moment of weakness a couple years ago, I had a make over done at Southern Comfort. I will say that I looked quite nice. It felt really odd and naughty to show up at the Hotel in full Hijab, go to my room and doff all that, do the next few days and then go back to the desk again properly covered the day I left. LOL Makeup is totally forbidden for me, but it felt nice to um let my hair down for a few days.

Much peace

Khadijah

not a big fan of warpaint either

I am by no means a beauty without warpaint either but I do not need it either. I figure that it is okay for special occasions to use it but everyday life, not so much On top of that there is the cost of the stuff and if you figure you are paying the equivalent of about 40 dollars per ounce of mascara in the US, makeup is pricey and has to be replaced regularly for hygienic reasons.

Kim

It's a pity...

...that Cathy dozed during her treatment at the beauty salon.

If she'd listened to the stylist, Cathy could have used Morag's accent as a template for her own portrayal of Lady Macbeth.

Thanks A+B: nice to see the way you're building up the tension as we wait for the meeting/meal with the stars.

Patterned Speech


Bike Resources

Must be nice

to stay in an hotel your father-in-law owns and go and enjoy the beauty treatment Cathy had, And it also helps that you do not have to pay the bill, Otherwise it would have been an expensive way to find out what the rest of us always suspected, Makeup in some cases is not always neccesary, And if Cathy feels good without it ...So much the better

Kirri

make-up

Kathy needs to learn one fashion mantra that everyone else seems to learn @ birth - There's a time & place for everything.

Warpaint is demanded by those of us to conceal what we dont want others to see and hi-lite what we want them looking at. PERIOD.

and I agree with the others comments that Kathy must have one hell of a good complexion to get by on minimalist @ time of her age. Then again I keep forgetting she's like under 30 or barely over it.. Wait till she hits 'ole fogey' stage where I am. I can get by with less than some, but, I know when to "ramp up the volume" and when not to. Just as in clothes wearing ... that outfit as I can envision it being - screams the girl wearing it should also pull out stops when wearing... if not for herself then for Simon. He for everything good or bad...does deserve a treat once in awhille ... kathy is so self-depreciating of her self that at times I just wanna take a frying pan & rattle a few brain cells to see if it would knocks some sense into her. I'm guessing her reasoning is she decideds she not going to bother ""competing"" with the model ...and I agree that's honorable. But, on the other hand , she's so self absorbed, that she ALSO fails to realize that this one of those occations, her & Simon get "ADULT" time, and for that simple reason alone...the WAR PAINT should of stayed on, and gone out and ENJOYED the evening with her Husband.

Shame on her.

ok - I get off my soapbox

Depends on what she was after,

she got to see the final results. She can get it done again if she wants.

I've never really learned to use makeup. I did in the early days of my transition, then dropped it.

Hope Morag doesn't see Cathy

Hope Morag doesn't see Cathy with her face washed, she'll think Lady C hated it.

Karen