I Love Me Narrative

I walk quickly into the beauty parlor, desperately in need of an appointment to fix my blonde hair. Deep down I know I don’t want to get my hair done, I only want Shreevy, my husband, to look at me once again the way he did in high school. He never looks me up and down and wonders how he got so lucky, or why I stay with him. Shreevy never tells me I’m pretty anymore even though I still do my hair and dress the way he likes me too. My hair is always curled in a way that frames my face, my makeup always done but not enough for him to notice. I wish he would tell me I’m pretty and worth something to him. Right now I’m just the wife who gets in the way of him going to the diner with his friends. To him I am just one of his things, much like his alphabetized, genre, and year organized records. I’m just a thing that he wants to keep prim and perfect but out of his way. The walls of the salon are painted a …show more content…
He leads the way towards the register, my high heels click against the black and white square linoleum tile. Boogie had only begun to type information into the register when he hurriedly looks to me, then turns to his coworker and mutters something to her before abandoning me at the register and making a bee-line for the door, only the sound of the chime left as his trail. “He'll be back. Wait around.” his coworker informs me, her eyes barely move from the paper she is writing on. Her voice low and long brown hair shadowing her face. I move my red painted lips to respond but chose to say nothing. The sounds of giggling, excited bridesmaids and juicy gossip being spread fill the empty space between me and the rest of the world. Without a word to form I place myself ever so nicely on the leather bench seat that sits opposite the front desk. I cross my legs in order to be sitting properly but it is not