Fae worked at her long blonde hair, working her fingers through the strands, detangling each strand meticulously. The sun shone through the clouds, giving as much life as it possibly could by the law of physics onto Fae’s pale French face.
In the majority of cases, a young blonde girl by the beach with the sun shining cheerfully upon her might have evoked a picture of a blonde goddess in a swimsuit advertorial. As unrealistic as Fae knew it was, she wished she looked like that at times. With her looks, she was supposedly pretty. After all, Bar Raefeli had the same blonde hair and fair skin as she did. So did Paris Hilton, even if her blue eyes were actually contacts. Both had landed modeling contracts for it.
However, the Russian Roulette of genetically good looks seemed to have narrowly bypassed her, and instead of looking like the blonde bombshell so often sung about, Fae reminded herself of a yellow duckling with tangly, frizzy blonde hair, with eyes that weren’t unlike the chlorinated depths of a swimming pool.
Perhaps it was her hair that made her un-pretty, Fae thought. After all, long hair had been the common centuries-old beauty ideal, and since long hair hadn’t quite worked for her in the beauty department as promised perhaps short hair would?
Fae had been tinkering around with hairstyle looks generators on the Internet recently, and after dealing with tangled long hair during beach season for the past eight years, a hairstyle change might be the refresh she needed. If short hair didn’t work out that well in the end Fae could throw a hat or cap on and possibly give herself a complete wardrobe overhaul and start experimenting with the androgynous look.
In between beauty ideals that didn’t live up to its promise and a wardobe overhaul, what did Fae truly stand to lose after all?