Two Stories for Friday

A Real Beauty

I was at the beauty supply store trying not to commit suicide over the extraordinary cost of the shampoo and conditioner I “should” be using when I was approached by one of the women who work there.

Woman: Do you have a sister?

Kate: No.

Woman: But you are French, yes?

Kate: No.

Woman: Really? You don’t have a sister in France?

At this point, I was thinking that maybe lying would actually be better because she seemed to really want me to be French and have a sister.

Kate: No, sorry.

Woman: You look like a girl who used to come in here. Such a beautiful face.

Kate: Aw, thank you! (picture beaming, thoroughly ego-boosted smile)

Woman: She really was very pretty. She was so lovely.

Kate: (awkward pause, faltering smile, followed by the quickest purchase of hair products in the history of female-hair-product-purchasing)

You have to love the awkward that comes with accepting a compliment that was not meant for you. Still, it is heartening to know that somewhere out there, I have a much prettier, French doppelganger.

What more can you ask for?

It’s Not that Old

It has been suggested to me that I look younger than my actual age. For the most part, I take this as a compliment because I think it is often intended that way. And since I’ve never seen jowls on a 10 year old, it’s not like the gap between the way I look and my age is all that profound—but then this is Hollywood.

There is a very nice, cute man who works at an establishment that friends and I frequent. We were standing around having a conversation about jobs vs careers vs what we’d really like to be doing with our lives (p.s. I came up with absolutely nothing for that one). We all agreed that it was time to make some different choices. Then he asked me how old I was. I told him.

His response?

“Wow! Congratulations!”

(Awkward laughing ensued)

Ok, I’m not that old. I mean, it’s not like I told him I was Nefertiti, or that as queen of a pharaoh I was about to give world domination a real go. Other than being short, I haven’t really achieved anything. Also, I’m a little concerned that if I actually looked my (apparently ancient) age, I would have failed in some way. I will stage many battles in my lifetime, but I’m fairly certain the only way to win the aging one is to be excited about not yet being dead. So, that’s how I’ve decided to take his exclamation—”Congratulations! You aren’t dead yet! We have not yet set you out on the ice floe!”

Sweet.

Kate, awkward in LA

P.S. Colin Firth better win.