49

I can’t stop running my fingers through my hair as I sit across from Camilla in the bistro café we have come to for a coffee. Lifting the deep black strands of hair and twirling them nervously. I have no idea what my Mom or Leila is going to say about this drastic change, but the reflection in the hair salon showed me a completely transformed woman. I look and feel, for the first time ever, that I actually look my age and the amount of well-dressed men turning our way in passing has not just been for Camilla.

Gone are the long blonde strands and round baby face, with pale stormy blue eyes, and in its place, a more angled, sleek facial shape. Framed with dark hair that seems to make my eyes stand out crazily, as though the blue is somehow more intense and less washed out. I wasn’t able to stop staring at the stranger in the mirror when she showed me the new look. I don’t look like that stroppy child anymore; I look like some vampy woman in much need of