Page 81 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove
TJ chokes them down, and by late afternoon announces she feels much better. Also, that she’s taking the car to Piper’s to get her homework.
And that’s how TJ finds herself back at the waxing salon.
She’s sure her eyes are red as she walks in, but the lady at the front desk smiles at her like always. TJ sits in the waiting area. Her phone buzzes relentlessly. She turns it off.
“TJ?” Lulu’s voice drifts in from the hallway. Numbly, TJ rises to follow the sound to the appointment room.
Inside, Lulu’s back is to her as she rinses her hands in the sink. “It’s been such a long time since I last saw you. How’ve you been?”
TJ tries to say “fine” but can’t seem to muster up the lie. Instead, she says, “I was hoping we could start with the full-face threading.”
Lulu turns around. TJ tries to smile. She thinks she’s doing a good job until Lulu speaks.
“What’s wrong, darling?”
Her voice is soft. TJ’s smile wavers. “Nothing.”
Lulu sits next to her and puts her hand on TJ’s shoulder. That’s all it takes. TJ’s vision swims with tears. “It’s,” she begins, shakily, “not nothing.”
Maybe it’s because she’s at her breaking point, or maybe it’s because she needs an adult who’s not her parents, or maybe it’s because Lulu’s already seen the worst parts of her, literally. Whatever it is, as soon as Lulu sits next to her, the whole story pours out. From the meme that started it all, to what’s brought her in today, TJ leaves nothing out. Somewhere in the middle, she starts crying and can’t stop. Lulu silently passes her tissues.
When her words and tears have petered out, Lulu sighs, her black-painted lips pulled into a frown. “My girl. My lovely, foolish girl.”
That wasn’t quite the response TJ had been expecting. Lulu wraps her arm around TJ’s shoulders.
“Let me tell you something. I have been in this business for nearly fifteen years, yes? Waxing, threading, laser, all that. My clients—my darlings”—she winks—“come from all walks of life. Women, men, nonbinary folks—of all racial backgrounds, all facing different kinds of expectations for body hair—and all having different things they actually want. Here, they can design themselves how they like, whether that means fitting into society’s standards or their own. It’s a joy helping them do that. Don’t you think so?”
TJ nods slowly. It makes sense that Lulu would help people navigate that. All the same, though, she’s somewhat lost the thread of this conversation. “Yeah, but, um... what does that have to do with me?”
“I’m getting there.” Lulu tuts. “So impatient. Like I was saying, the world has these ludicrous expectations of how much hair a man or woman is supposed to have. Hardly anyone fits them naturally, but we feel the pressure to, don’t we? Some more than others.” Her voice has become knowing. “Why do you think you hate your hair so much? I have just listened to you talk about it for ten minutes. You, like all the people who have said unkind things about you, cannot reconcile your body hair with your womanhood.”
TJ blinks, opens her mouth, ready to deny it. That can’t be true. It can’t be that simple.
But—she hesitates—can’t it? Yes, she’s observed gendered hair expectations before—but she’s never connected them toherself. Maybe she should have. Ithasalways felt like the hair somehow made her look like less of a girl; and wasn’t that what the most hurtful comments said, too?
Lulu must see it dawning on her face, because she says, very gently, “Hair has no gender, darling. It’s just hair. Do what you want with it, but it does not make you less of a woman. It does not make you less interesting, less worthy, or less deserving of desire. Understood?”
Frowning, TJ holds up her hands and examines the hair growing on the knuckles. She tries to see them as feminine, which of course theyare—because they’re hers.
But after so long seeing them as something else, it’s hard. She drops her hands. “I know, Lulu. Logically, I get what you mean,” she says desperately. “But itjust doesn’t feel that way. I still can’t help that I look at myself and feel like... I’m notpretty. I’m not normal.”
She whispers that last bit, that fear she has tried so hard to ignore. But Lulu only nods wisely. “Many of my clients feel that way. And it breaks my heart, darling, because after seeing so many different kinds of bodies, I know the truth.”
“Which is?”
“Normal doesn’t exist,” Lulu says bluntly. “I’ve seen hair everywhere, on all kinds of people. Not only that, but I’ve seen every manner of skin condition, and lumps and bumps in places you couldn’t even imagine. Sometimes I think I’ve seen it all. The truth of it is that humans are ugly little creatures by our own standards, and no one’s immune to being human, although some of us try to hide it.”
TJ thinks back to Amy’s pamphlets and fights a laugh. “So... everybody is ugly?”
“So, so ugly. Trust me.” Lulu beams. “Once you accept that, you can finally be free of those ridiculous expectations. And start seeing beauty in the things that really matter.”
TJ smiles bitterly. “That would be so much easier to accept if other people did, too.”
“Are you still thinking aboutthat boy?” Lulu sniffs, although TJ isn’t sure if she’s talking about Liam or Charlie. “Forget him. Do you think you’re the first person to come into my business afraid their partner won’t like the way they look? I always tell them the same thing: I can sell you smooth legs, or coochie, or face. Whatever you like. But I don’t sell lies. So listen to me, darling.” She taps TJ’s chin, making her look up. “You can’t spend your life being afraid no one will love you if you are yourself. If you cannot be yourself with someone, that is not love. That is settling.”
The words sink deep into TJ’s chest. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am.” Lulu reaches towards her desk and pops a lemon tart into her mouth. “Now, do you still want the threading? I’ve got everything ready.”