TBBM XXX. Beautiful

"Squad wanted to know if you're free after this?" just then, Enon walked up to me.

"Free?" I turned around to face her. "Did he want to see me?"

"He...?" her brows twitched in confusion. Suddenly, her face morphed into Roma's. She wasn't Enon. My eyes pulled a trick on me. Perhaps, it was my brain, too. Why did I even want him to see me?

Deep in me, I had questions about 'him' but I wasn't sure I wanted to come face to face with 'him'. Also, I wanted to know why 'he' wasn't here---he was the president.

"R-roma," I stuttered. "It's you."

"Who did you want to see?" she prodded.

"No one. Definitely, no one," I dismissed.

"Why do I smell allot of secrets out here?"

"N-no. No. It's really nothing."

"He was looking for you. Like I said," she giggled. "It's not too bad to look for him, too. It's mutual."

It felt weird hearing her say that. Somehow there was excitement in me as I thought about it. But it also felt painful.

"Where are we going?" I changed the topic.

"Oh-yes," she navigated back to her question. "I'm replacing someone for a brand shoot. I kinda wanted company."

"How can somebody pretty always need company?" I rolled my eyes at her. "Come on, you should be more confident than the others."

"I am!" she rolled her eyes back at me. "Why? Is it too bad now to ask a friend over? You used to join me."

"You should treat me to an ice cream bar after."

+++

Roma sat pretty on the stool in the studio. Her usually long straight hair was curled in chic fashion. There were light stands on both her sides and a huge fan in front. They couldn't decide between the cream or white background so they'd been trying shots on either. The main camera guy had been telling her how he wanted the shots to be---and every time he gave instructions, Roma picked them up in no time.

The vibe inside the studio was fun. They played a funky music in the background. The make up and wardrobe artists would touch up on her every now and then. The representative of the brand of bags they were shooting for was there, too, telling them which bag she wanted for which outfit.

Shoots could take long hours but for this campaign, they wrapped in only four. They also gave free items to all the three girls who did the shoot. It must be nice to be able to do what she did. She appeared cool.

I sat there in one corner of the studio---falling asleep intermittently---when Roma approached me.

"And this is for my lovely sister," she handed over the lady bag to me. It was a pretty shade of beige. "Thanks for coming with me!"

"You're giving this to me!?" I gasped for air.

"Of course," she twirled, sporting her pretty hair. "The colour's more you than me. I liked the bright ones, you know."

I was so happy that I joined her twirl and dance.

+++

Roma drove us out of the studio in her stylish blue car. When we first went to her gig together, she said she wanted a sparkly effect on the paint. I asked James who painted his black car and referred her over. She really got her car re-painted.

"Jopet," she called as we were both seated in front. "I wanted to say something but you seemed too occupied lately... so I'll take this opportunity and tell you."

"You're making me nervous," I waited.

"No," she shook her head. "Honestly, I find your recent transition really inspiring. You always thought I was cool but, in truth, I wasn't really. In fact, I'd been holding myself from colouring my hair for fear that I might be perceived as not living low-key but---"

"We should definitely get you that hair dye," I cut her.

"Yeah?"

I grinned, widely.

Roma, she was one of those who had been really nice to me. It felt good hearing that I inspired her somehow. But I still could not wrap my head around the idea that somebody rich and pretty could be feeling low like that. I used to think that pretty girls lived better lives---at least if you were smart like Roma.

+++

We ended up going to the mall. She made a quick call to the salon to reserve us a slot for 3PM. Reservation, upon hearing that, I knew it wasn't any simple salon that she was aiming for.

I loved it every time my mother did my hair but an upscale experience shouldn't hurt, should it?

"Jopet, we should definitely splurge on all this," she waived her card after depositing the cheque she got from the studio.

"Splurge!?" I had no idea how much it was but her choice of words made it look lavish.

"Exactly. I've been holding back for months. It's time now I let loose," she danced freely. So free. The security men of the bank watched her merrily.

We were headed to the salon but she couldn't find the courage to walk past a stretch of boutiques by the first floor. They looked more like a pop-up store, actually. It meant, they wouldn't be there forever---they must be on short-term lease for a promo. They sold dresses with vibrant colours---definitely her style. I knew she wouldn't hold well.

"Jopet, splurging begins here," she went for it giddy as a girl running towards her crush.

"I never really tried shopping for girly-girl outfits, you know? I never really shopped at all," I whispered to her.

Before I started the hormone change, I only actually wore jackets, jeans and anything agender. Clearly, I was in such a different place now.

"Oh, come on. You're rocking it. Try this," she handed me over a plaid short dress with a black turtle neck under it. "Hurry!"

We did several rounds of mix and match. Roma was a true fashion guru but she always asked me to help her choose only the not-so-stand-out combination. Apparently, she still wanted to be perceived as low-profile.

It was half past three. She received a call from the salon asking where we were so we practically rushed to the counter to settle our bill. It felt like that familiar scene in reality shows in which contestants had limited time to do a haul.

I ended up with three pairs of dresses and one pair of knee-length boots. I almost complained about the amount she spent on mine until I saw her swiping twenty thousand for her five pairs of tops and bottoms and three pairs of shoes.

"Are you sure you wanted to give me these?" I asked, reluctant. "How can you spend all these in one go?"

"Didn't I say splurge?" she beamed, unaffected. "It was my third shoot. The funding was a bit delayed for the first two. But they're trustworthy. I worked with them for a year now. So, I agreed to proxy for today and they wrote me a cheque for all three shoots."

"That's amazing," my jaw dropped.

"Do you want to do this, too?" she offered, casually. "I get a handful of offers at times. It sucks to just turn them down, you know?"

"I c-can do that?" I marveled.

"Hmmm. Yes---with a few changes," she twisted my hair in her fingers joyfully. "Let's get going, sister. I'll make you even more beautiful."

Beautiful. Nobody really ever called me beautiful. I knew she was just being nice but, I liked it---being called pretty.

We sprinted towards the third floor. We didn't have to be that rushing, but to me, it felt like running towards being what I deeply, honestly wanted to be. It was fun.

We were greeted by the salon manager right by the entrance. It was an upscale salon with a big foyer and tall ceiling. The scent from the burnt essence inside was soothing.

"Roms, this place must be so expensive," I elbowed her.

"I got you, sister. By the time they see you all on Monday, they'll see who the real boss, is. Believe me. They do it so well here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! So, don't be silly, now."

The salon manager assigned two hair experts for each of us. Other guests had to stop by the foyer and list their details but we skipped that step. They must know her well.

"Has your hair been treated before?" one of my two attendants inspected my me.

"Not really. Only organic stuff like gin---"

"I got this, Sis," Roma interrupted.

She showed me the hair style catalogue as she pointed volume rebonding to the hair dressers. They spoke professionally compared to those we had in the neighbourhood. I half-feared that they'd go laughing at me or picking on my hair but I was all wrong.

"Mine must take very long. They'll have to bleach my hair. Do you want to get colour, too?"

"No. I'm good," I declined softly.

In no time, the process began. They sat us on the hairwashing area and started shampooing us. I was all new to this so I couldn't really pay attention to what they were doing on Roma's hair. She had her earphones on as she sat regally on the chair, eyes closed, fully surrendering her crown to the hands of the masters.

I wanted to place my confidence in them---actually in the bill my friend was willing to pay for their service on me---but I couldn't keep my curiosity as they put different chemical treatments on my hair, followed by strapping my head with a cling wrap and repeatedly baking my hair in the overhead heater.

"Please bear with us. This takes time for your hair was naturally a bit kinky," one of the hairdressesrs explained calmly, despite the pained look on their face while they combed my hair earlier. I thought that was the best my hair I could get, but hopefully, it could be more.

I ended up falling asleep. They were kind enough to let me. They only woke me up every time I had to get washed and when my head was stooping so low while they ironed my hair.

On the fifth hour, they both covered our eyes with a fancy sleeping mask.

"Why- What---" I panicked.

"Sssshh. Relax," Roma laughed at me. "It's their deal here. They're preparing you for the final look.

They blow dried, combed and snipped here and there. Their task appeared laborious and challenging to the hands but I heard no whispers of complains. I was sure my hair was extra difficult but this time, they were finger-combing it effortlessly. Somebody dripped my lips with some tint and applied what I thought was liquid foundation to my face. It took them a good thirty minutes before they finally stopped.

"Are you ready, Misses?" they wheeled our chairs around so we faced each other. "One, two, three..."

I squinted my eyes before I focused on Roma. She was already screaming in delight as she saw me. But I thought they made her really beautiful, too. She looked American with her new blonde.

"I looove it," she clapped. She kicked my chair. "Face the mirror."

If I were being fully honest, I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted it so bad to be the opposite of what they said I should be at birth. I hated looking at my birth certificate. I was grossed out by having to write 'male' on my papers. I couldn't stand the envy when my classmates did their hair or when they tried on pretty dresses.

I wanted to be pretty. Was that wrong? If I wanted to change my body this way, was that so much of a sin to the Creator? Ma-ho told me in the hospital when I was young, after I got hit by a car, that I had better not try to want to be a girl because I simply didn't look good as one. I remembered that dearly, fueling all my fears up until today.

I watched myself in the mirror, awed by what I saw.

"Beautiful."