Beauty Routines

Ada and I engage in the following little ritual every morning, at least once:

“You are beautiful!” Ada will say. Then a worried look will come over her face, and she’ll extend an arthritic hand. “But your hair…” she continues, looking sadly disappointed, and shaking her head – “What can you do with the hair!”

I don’t really know what to say to this, but as it happens every day, I’ve gotten used to it. “I’m not sure.” I resign, “It’s just my hair I guess.”

She shakes her head again in disgust. I brace, and go in for some wet kisses, before leaving for the day.

Once outside the door, I pause by the hallway mirrors to wipe whatever was on Ada’s lips, from both my cheeks. (Usually a mixture of stagnant saliva, and small pieces of her breakfast.)

My hair looks as fine as it can, after accidently receiving a mullet from a hair dresser looking for hair models. There is nothing to do except "wait for it to grow," another hairdresser confirmed.

I enjoy our little ritual, but living with Ada has added a new step to my daily beauty routine. I now cleanse, tone, moisturize, apply make up, then run out the door and douse my cheeks with hand sanitizer!