12. Makeover Montage

MAKEOVER MONTAGE

PENELOPE

" I have nothing to wear," I groaned, flopping dramatically onto Trixie's bed.

Trixie and Jules exchanged amused glances. I'd called an emergency meeting with them after Everett's cryptic text about our next lesson. He'd also told me I was supposed to wear cocktail attire, because we were going somewhere a bit fancier. But the only other clue he'd given was that it was holiday themed since it was the week before Christmas.

I absolutely could not handle not knowing and Jules, using her superiffic sneaky spy skills found out that Ev was talking me to a holiday speed dating event. Just the thought made my palms sweat, made my everything sweat.

"And I don't even know how to do my makeup for speed dating. Is it like regular dating? More glam? Less glam? I'm doomed."

He wanted me to talk to a whole room full of men? It was ludicrous. I'd probably end up throwing up on one of them, and knowing me, it would be some sort of sparkling red and green Christmas drink I'd barf up.

"Pen, honey," Trixie said, patting my arm, "you could show up in a potato sack and still turn heads."

I rolled my eyes. "Right. Because nothing says, ‘date me' like burlap chic."

Jules bounced on the bed next to me. "You know what? This calls for a makeover montage."

I sat up, eyeing her warily. "A what now?"

"You heard me," Jules grinned. "We're going full-on chick flick. Spa, salon, shopping, the works." She held up a hand as I opened my mouth to protest. "I know the media portrays makeovers as a fix. Like if we make ourselves more beautiful, specifically to fulfill male sexual desires, then we'll feel worthy. And that is utter bullshit."

Trixie and I both stared at our youngest fighter in the feminist revolution. How she was so much smarter than the rest of us at a youthful age, well, I'd like to say I'd never know, but I think a lot of it had to do with finding her own place in a family of eight men. If anyone was going to crush the patriarchy, it was Jules Kingman. And her father and brothers would be right there cheering her on.

"We're getting makeovers for ourselves and no one else. Because when we feel beautiful inside and out, that is when we are unstoppable."

Trixie raised her hands hallelujah-style like we were at some kind of revival and Jules was the speaker of truths. "Exactly. You're already gorgeous, Pen. We're just going to help you see it and feel it."

I knew I wasn't repulsive, although it had taken some serious inner work and reflection after the kinds of rejections I'd gotten from every man I'd ever had in my life before I genuinely believed that. But did I really?

Or was there still a small evil voice inside that said no man would want to date me or have sex with me?

Maybe.

Most days I could tell that voice to shut up. I was surrounded by amazing women who told the world they were enough every single day. I loved to be around them, supporting them, helping them prove to the world that all bodies were beautiful.

So why didn't I actually, truly, totally believe that mine was?

Deep down, I knew that's really why I was awkward around men. I was so good at pushing them away with my weirdo-ness. Because it was easier to blame that for why I didn't date than because I was afraid that no one would love someone who looked like me.

Being afraid was not who I wanted to be. I swallowed hard and dug deep inside for the Penelope I knew was in there. The one who said, "Fear is my bitch."

She was there, although her take-no-shit voice was a bit out of practice. It came out softer and squeakier than I'd like. "I guess a little makeover couldn't hurt."

Two hours later, I found myself wrapped in a fluffy robe, cucumber slices on my eyes as a stylist worked some kind of magic on my hair.

"Okay, Pen, now that we've got you trapped in relaxation mode," Trixie's voice came from my left, "spill. What's really going on with you and Everett?"

I was glad for the cucumber slices hiding my eyes. "For real, he really is just helping me with the whole dating thing."

"Uh-huh," Jules said, skepticism dripping from her voice. "And these lessons involve him almost kissing you on his front porch because...?"

I sighed, reaching up to remove the cucumber slices. "Somehow I'm not surprised you can't let that go. It really wasn't what you think. Everett's just going a little above and beyond. He simply feels sorry for me because he's seen how bad I am with trying to meet a man."

"I don't think so," a familiar voice chimed in, "I highly doubt my future brother-in-law feels sorry for you, Pen."

I sat bolt upright, nearly knocking over the stylist. "Kelsey?"

There she was, looking effortlessly glamorous in a silk robe, her hair in rollers. "Surprise. The girls told me about your little makeover session. Thought I'd join in."

I shot accusatory glances at Trixie and Jules. Trixie at least had the decency to look like she understood her crimes against Pen-manity. Jules laid right back down, slipped those cucumbers back over her eyes and grinned.

She was definitely the mastermind here.

Kelsey settled into the chair next to me and set Wiener the Pooh into a cuddly basket that the salon had waiting for her. This ambush was well-planned. "Now, about you and Everett. I've known forever that something's been going on between the two of you. I saw how he looked at you back at the hospital when you were coordinating my escape."

That was months ago, way before I'd asked him to be my dating coach. It was only days after we'd first met. I had only one four letter word in response to her assessment of the situation. "What?"

"Yeah." She made that frowny I-know-what-I'm-talking-about face I'd come to love ever since she'd fallen in love with Declan. "I've been waiting for him to make a move, and I'm assuming makeover montage means he finally is taking you out on a date. I just wish you would have told me. We're friends, aren't we?"

My stomach dropped. "Oh, Kels, you're my best friend, and it's been the worst trying to keep this from you. But it's only because Declan can't find out. It's not... we're not..." I took a deep breath. "It's not a date. Everett's been giving me dating lessons."

The salon went quiet. Even the stylist paused, sensing the tension.

"Dating lessons?" Kelsey repeated slowly. "That I can't tell Declan about?"

I nodded miserably. "I didn't want to tell you because... well, because I wanted so badly to show you that I've learned from your example. That I was as confident and happy with my looks as you are."

I pressed the cucumber slices back up to my eyes, because the tears that were bubbling up were hot. "But I'm not. And it's been holding me back. So I asked Everett to help me learn how to flirt and date so I could get a real date for the Grampys."

Kelsey grabbed those cucumber slices and tossed them into the trash. Then she took my hand and to my surprise, laughed. Not in the way I'd been laughed at in college. She wasn't laughing at me, she was commiserating and laughing not to cry herself. "Oh, sweet Penelope. You think I'm confident all the time? No woman is and you above all know me better than that."

I mean, sure I'd seen her confidence shaken before, but never about her body positive image and message. She definitely worked to be the best role model, singer, activist, dog owner, and now fiancée.

Trixie nodded emphatically. "I definitely still have days where I feel like a potato with legs."

"And don't even get me started on how cool high schoolers are about big girls," Jules added with a whole lot of sarcasm.

Kelsey reached out and took my hand. "Pen, listen to me. Body positivity isn't about feeling confident every day. It's about showing the world that you're beautiful from the inside out, no matter what beauty standard of the day society says we're supposed to fulfill. It's about loving yourself enough to believe in and be your most authentic self, even when the world doesn't like it."

I blinked back tears that had been threatening to fall for twenty-some-odd years. "But how do you do that?"

"Practice, and faking it until you believe it yourself," Kelsey said simply. "And surrounding yourself with people who lift you up. People who also love you for you."

She gave a nod to Trixie and Jules, but then sent me a pointed look. "The ladies and I will always love you for yourself, but I think you need to look into your heart and see that someone else might too. Then be honest with yourself about your feelings for Everett."

"I don't—" Even before Kelsey cut me off, I knew I couldn't finish that lie.

"Pen," Kelsey gently broke in, "it's okay to have feelings for him. But you need to be true to yourself about it. Don't hide behind these lessons if what you really want is something more."

I sat there, stunned. Kelsey was right. I had been using these lessons as a shield, afraid to admit how I really felt about Everett. He was the only man I'd ever truly felt comfortable around. Even when he was a breath away from kissing me, I hadn't freaked out like I did when I even talked to another guy.

But what if it really was just lessons for him?

I'd been rebuffed, jilted, and disdained by every guy I'd ever had even an inkling of feelings for. What made me think this time would be any different?

"I... I don't know," I admitted softly.

Kelsey squeezed my hand. "That's okay too. Just promise me you'll think about it, alright?"

I nodded, my mind whirling. As the stylist resumed work on my hair, I caught my reflection in the mirror. For the first time in a long time, I didn't immediately focus on my chubby cheeks, my double chin, the roundness of my face. Instead, I saw a woman on the verge of something big.

Something scary but potentially wonderful.

Maybe this makeover really was going to be about more than just my appearance after all.

After the spa, we went to a boutique in the bougie Peach Creek area of Denver called Muffin. I already knew the owner, an amazing plus size fashionista designer named Rose Vond. She'd provided clothes for Kelsey before. But her career had really taken off in the past year after she'd designed a dress for some kind of royalty in Europe. Now she had shops in London, Chicago, L.A., and, lucky for us, Denver.

"Kelsey, Penelope, so amazing to see you two again. And please, introduce me to your friends." Rose indicated to Trixie and Jules.

I introduced them and Rose gave them both big hugs. "I'll be honest and tell you that I already knew who you both were. I have a bit of a spy network when it comes to influential women like you two. I can hardly wait to see you in some of my designs."

Rose took Jules by the arm and led her toward a wall of clothes that had a young adult look about them, like she'd been specifically designing for a teen girl. But she paused a moment and turned back to look at us. "Ladies, I already have a few dresses picked out for each of you waiting in the dressing rooms. Just look for the one with your name on it. Kels, I added a few extras for you to pick from for the Grampys."

I blinked a few times, and then Kelsey leaned in and whispered to me, "How does she do that? It's like she knew we were coming, but we didn't even know we were going to be here today."

Trixie looked just as flabbergasted as the rest of us. "She did say she had spies. But they must be like... magical fae or something because all the clothes in this place are absolutely ethereal.

She pointed toward a wall of those fancy dressing rooms where they have padded benches and your name written on the door. Our names were all printed in a gorgeous calligraphy.

"Maybe she's some kind of clairvoyant," Kelsey said and headed toward her dressing room. She opened the door and there were some of the most beautiful dresses I'd ever seen in my life hanging inside. I could hardly wait to see what would be in mine.

I trotted over and yanked the door open. I just stood there, hearing Trixie ooh and aww and Kelsey squeal as they discovered what Rose had chosen for them. But inside my dressing room was just one item.

The most beautiful green satin dress I'd ever seen in my life. It was cocktail length and simple yet elegant enough to wear just about anywhere. To the Grampys or a speed dating evening.

There was a little note on the bench next to the dress that read "Trust me."

Oh, I did. I shut the door, dropped my drab clothes to the floor and discovered a gorgeous set of bra and panties in the same jewel tone as the dress laid out for me too. I slipped into everything and closed my eyes envisioning what I hoped it would all look like.

It was never as good in the actual mirror, and would probably need alterations and some dreaded shapewear, but I could deal with all of that later.

I turned and lookedinto the full-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me. My wild red curls had been tamed into soft waves that framed my face. The makeup artist had told me she was just doing some light, natural looking makeup, but my eyes looked bigger, my cheeks soft and flush, and my lips were definitely fuller.

I looked... beautiful.

It wasn't just the hair and makeup. There was something different in my eyes, a spark that hadn't been there before.

The dress hugged my curves in all the right places and shapewear could be damned. I hated the stuff and Rose had designed a dress that didn't even need any. For once, I didn't feel the need to suck in my stomach or try to hide my arms. This dress celebrated my body instead of trying to conceal it.

I took a deep breath, Kelsey's words echoing in my mind. Body positivity isn't about feeling confident every day. It's about loving yourself enough to be your most authentic self, even when the world doesn't like it.

I looked at myself again, really looked. I saw the little scar on my chin from when I fell off my bike as a kid. The freckles scattered across my nose, cheeks, and shoulders.

And for the first time in a long time, I wasn't disappointed in what I saw. My body wasn't flawed and didn't need to be hidden or fixed. Every scar, every freckle, and even every bulge and roll were part of my story, part of what made me uniquely me.

"Okay, Penelope," I said to my reflection, "time to believe."

I struck a pose, and then another, and another, channeling my inner supermodel, and giggled at my own silliness. But that was okay too. Being authentically me meant embracing the goofy parts as well.

I grabbed my phone to take a selfie—not to post anywhere, just for me. A reminder of this moment, this feeling.

I snapped the picture, and a second later my phone buzzed with a text from Everett.

Almost ready? Hope you're up for an adventure.

My heart did a little flip. Was I ready? The old Penelope would have panicked, convinced she wasn't good enough, pretty enough, thin enough. But the woman in the mirror? She was ready for anything.

I typed back and added a little boldness to my message.

Bring it on, love guru.

As I hit send, I realized something. I wasn't nervous about Everett seeing me like this. I was excited. I wanted him to see this version of me—not because I thought it would impress him, but because it felt like the truest version of myself.

Jules was so right about makeovers.

I slipped on the heels, grabbed my other clothes, and took one last look in the mirror.

"You've got this," I told my reflection. "You've shown the world the Penelope Quinn they wanted to see. Time to show the world, and Everett Kingman, the best version of yourself. The real you."