Sylvia watched the curls spring back as she took out each of the heated rollers. Phil liked curly hair, not the dead straight hair that she’d been so proud of in her teens. She started the elaborate process of putting on the make-up that he liked her to wear. Last winter she’d suffered with a nasty bout of ‘flu, so hadn’t had the energy to bother with make-up. He’d taunted her about how ugly she looked . . . joking . . . he’d said. Now she put it on, no matter how she felt.
She listened to the love songs on her local radio station. He said he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He said that that was why he’d looked into cosmetic surgery for her. Her hand started to shake as she applied her eyeliner. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She would have to start all over again. The words of the song penetrated:
That song ‘Unpretty’, she’d heard it before, but not really listened.
Those girls, T.L.C....they knew how she was feeling.
Suddenly, she wasn’t alone. There was nothing wrong her, it was Phil who was all wrong . . . and tonight . . . he’d be gone.