Petra seeks professional help

Without Google, I am nothing.

I had been out enough recently to know that while I was making progress on wardrobe and walk, I was stuck in the ditch on make up. The liquid Lancôme products were not covering over the dreaded shadow. Something, simply had to be done.

Many CD cosmetic guides inform that if you are not starting with Dermablend, then you are doomed to being clocked. Google up “DermaBlend” and the possibilities are endless. With patience and planning, I could have ordered on-line. But when Petra gets busy, well she jumps to the front of the line, peep-toe pumps tapping and no damned delays for even overnight express shipping at a premium of $17.95. Forget planning. Petra is a hurricane.

ULTA Cosmetics seemed like the most likely environment to get satisfaction. Had enough time to visit in drab before a lunch with a colleague. Beautiful store. A little thin on the sales floor with help, but soon enough I was chatting with a totally cute young thing who I suppose was expecting to help me pick up a nice anniversary gift box.

“I need some Dermablend to cover up my beard line. Can you help me?”

“Ummmm .... (nervous laugh)...Let me see if I can find an aesthetician for you”

Cool. Always willing to work with qualified professionals. It took about 5 minutes for a knock-out of a sister to emerge, listen to my tale, and then indicate that she really did not know the line well enough to do me justice. The real expert was going to be in at 4:00 that afternoon if I wanted to pop back in.

I said I might, but knew that Petra already had a date later in the afternoon.

Fearing that even my best efforts at self-applying make-up were simply never going to yield fruit, the night before I had Googled yet again.

“Atlanta Transformation” was the keyword. 1st ranked result was as follows:

Bulls-eye. The very thing. Checked out the site, liked what I saw (wished the photos were just a little more …. hot), but particularly loved that a free consult (in the form of a 30 minute chit-chat) was on offer.

I left a message on her machine, and figured I had some time for myself. I managed to get my panty girdle up to just over my knees when my cell phone rang in the next room. I had to do the hobble-kneed, jumpy-spazzy run breathless to the phone.

R was cheerful and calm. We needed to meet. We picked a coffee shop. I mentioned I was going to be en femme. Well, that was unusual for a first meeting. But I don’t have any hang ups with (and plenty of exposure to) unusual.

I was troubled by one thing only before heading out: Coffee Shop. Again, no particular problem with being “clocked”, just kind of felt that my voice and our topics of conversation would stand out as … well maybe just a little too much for a late afternoon caffeine crowd. We changed locale to a newish Thai joint with poor lighting, and made 5:30 a date.

So, my outfit: Skin-tight Danskin back-zip, snap-crotch turtleneck top. Huggy, stretchy cotton/lycra mini-skirt. Opaque tights. Full length, inside zip, pinched toe and 4” stiletto heel boots. Need I say black? I thought not.

My best possible, and far from passable effort with the face. Wig on and brushed out, purse packed and the always slightly unsettling drive in daylight. I don’t have a problem once I am out of the neighborhood, but that ¼ mile to the corner is a little dicey. Lots of dog walking and yard working going on. Everyone knows my car, and who the hell is that woman at the wheel? But again, if not for these little dangers, why do we dress?

I called R as I arrived. I saw a petite woman reach into a purse and pull out a phone. So, we meet. Heart starting to pop again in anticipation of the unknown.

I slid my way way out of the truck attempting to preserve modesty. My heels were pencil thin. I did less well walking then I thought I would. I had left quite a little stroll across the parking lot thinking the distance would get me and my hips into the swing of things. What the distance did was make me regret not getting a chunkier heel. And it provided an opportunity for 2 drivers to be pedestrian friendly and simply insist that I had the right of way. I recognize that “no, after you” wave of the hand. I give it all the time. When I want to look at a nice ass. Turnaround is fair play after all.

R and I talked for close to an hour. She explained how she got into the business. She had some questions of me. Married? Yes. Wife knows? No. No surprise, most don’t. Dressing long? Forever. No surprise, most do. I trusted her. I asked her:

“ So what can I do better? How can I do better? How would you help me?”

It was makeup no doubt. And yes she could help. A little more …. drama … was required. And she would be happy to supply it. We made a date for the next evening. The college boys insisted on holding the door open as we walked out of the bar together, and I tottered off to the car.