Watch Me Disappear

asks, tracing a finger along my right eyebrow.
    “No,” I say. I have nicely shaped eyebrows. Not bushy or anything. “Should I?”
    “Hmm. You could really use some more definition here. I mean, we can put some brow pencil on them, but you have to pluck these strays,” she says. “We can take care of that when we get home.”
    “But won’t it hurt?” I ask.
    “No beauty without a little pain,” Katherine says.
    By the time they’re done with me, they have applied a yellow concealer beneath my eyes where Katherine says my thin skin gives me a tired appearance, foundation over my entire face (which I protested on the grounds that I have nice skin, but Maura and Katherine both insisted that to be sure one is always ready to be photographed, foundation is a must), rosy blush on my cheeks, eyeliner all around my eyes, three shades of eye shadow in progressing layers, mascara, brow pencil, and “face illuminating” powder over the top, which is like a hint of glitter over my whole face.
    “I cannot go out in public like this,” I say when they turn me to the mirror.
    “You look great,” Maura says.
    “It doesn’t really go with your hair and clothes, does it?” Katherine says.
    She’s right.
    “It’s just too much.”
    “Well, what don’t you like?” Maura asks.
    The eyeliner. There is nothing subtle about it, and I am pretty sure it makes my eyes look smaller.
    “If you’re going to be all dressed up, you need eyeliner,” Maura reasons. “You don’t have to wear it every day, but you do need it.”
    I look in the basket where they’ve been collecting the various products I have to buy. It is going to cost a fortune. I wonder if my mom’s spending limit will even cover it. I wasn’t planning to use her debit card, but seeing the price tags, I decide I should take this opportunity, as it might be once-in-a-lifetime.
    “How do you normally wear your hair?” Katherine asks.
    “Like this,” I say. My hair, as usual, is in a ponytail.
    Katherine tugs out the elastic and ruffles her hand through my hair. “Maybe we should look at some styling products too,” she says.
    “You guys are going to teach me how to use all this stuff, right?”
    Maura assures me they will. I am becoming their little test dummy and protégé.
    In addition to my basket full of makeup, I also buy fancy shampoo, conditioner, styling mousse, a straightening iron, and hair spray. And perfume. I blow right by the hundred and fifty dollar limit and have to contribute fifty bucks of my own. When we get back to Maura’s, they make me wash off all the makeup and wash my hair. Then I get my first lesson in hairstyling and makeup application.
    I like the makeup better when I put it on myself. I apply it more lightly than they had, so it looks more natural. Try as I might, I’m not very handy at hairstyling, though. I can’t seem to tease the roots as Katherine instructed, and I have no luck with the up-dos they showed me. In the end, Katherine produces a small set of scissors and, while I hold my breath, trims some fringy bangs and layers, which we iron flat into a funky style. When we’re done, I don’t look like me, but I look sort of good. And good thing, too, because all the little pieces she cut are never going to fit into a ponytail.
    “See,” Maura says. “That wasn’t so hard.”
    “Maybe we should come raid your closet and see what we can do with that,” Katherine says, laughing smugly. She has gotten a little friendlier as the day has gone on. When I let her cut my hair, I think that sealed the deal. She is willing to at least consider extending friendship to me.
    “You won’t find much interesting in my closet,” I say.
    “What, no secrets?” Maura asks, suddenly turning our conversation away from the safe realm of appearances. My heart pounds. I’m not ready for this kind of conversation. Is this where they turn on me?
    “No,” I say. “No cute clothes or skeletons.”
    “How disappointing,” Maura says. “I thought there was a wild child in you that we had yet to uncover.”
    “You’ve met my parents. They don’t allow much for wildness.”
    “Exactly. Kids with strict parents are usually the ones who let it all out when they step outside their parents’ grasp.”
    “I guess I’m still pretty much within their grasp,” I say.
    Maura makes a tsk sound. “I thought for sure there was more to you, Lizzie,” she says.
    I shrug. I wish there was more to me, too.
    “No time like the