3 - Instant Permanent Retroactive Makeover

Of course, my dignity and self-respect meant I couldn't admit to myself more than a narrow fantasy that this silly little phone game could make anything happen in the real world. But I had to know for sure, right?

I thought for a while about what i should type. I felt foolish even thinking about it. But if I did have Aladdin's magic lamp on my phone, it'd be silly not to use it right?

As I pondered, my phone screen turned off, and I saw my face reflected in the glass.

Okay, I admit, I'm a little superficial. But I kind of looked like shit.

I had hurried out of the dorm this morning. I had barely slept, hadn't bothered with my normal makeup routine, and I'd thrown my brown hair back into a loose, frumpy ponytail. I looked like I'd just rolled out of bed. I kind of had.

Nobody realizes how much effort it takes to take care of long hair until they try to do it.

I turned on my selfie camera and stretched my arm out to get my tired face and dry, unkempt hair into the same frame as my big perfect sweater-stretchers. I puffed my chest out a little to accentuate the effect, and snapped a picture, capturing my tired, puffy eyes and goofy smirk.

LonelyFans won't get to see that one, I thought to myself. When they saw me 'without makeup', they got the half-hour-in-the-mirror 'natural' look.

I thought back on the hours I'd spent in front of a mirror ever since high school, practicing from makeup tutorials delivered by an endless succession of squeaky-voiced teens and twenty-somethings with perfect smokey eye shadow. I never did feel like I got the hang of it.

Yeah, fuck it.

I opened the strange new app again. I typed, "I have perfect hair and makeup", and hit enter.

A fraction of a second passed. It felt like an eternity. I felt very silly for even entertaining the thought that this might do anything.

And then I heard that chime.

~ Da-ding! ~

(so that's what that was!)

The first thing I noticed was that the sound didn't come from my phone. It seemed to come from behind me, or maybe from all around. The second thing I noticed was a subtle shift in the way my hair weighed on my head.

I stuffed my notes and my textbook in my book bag, tossed my room-temperature latte in the bin, and ran to the bathroom.

I gawked at myself in the mirror. I looked incredible. My hair was smooth and shiny with a perfect shampoo-commercial luster and a new, darker color. My face looked better than when I spent hours on it, with a subtle rim of eyeliner and a deep wine-red lipstick that managed to seem both alluring and professional.

I reached up and touched my lip with a thumb.

As the lipstick rubbed off under my thumb, my whole look shifted, blush and eyeliner and mascara fading away to fit a new, more subtle look, without the lipstick I'd removed. Subtler, but still stunning. My eyes looked wide and thoughtful and sharp.

It was almost enough to draw attention away from my tits.

I let down my ponytail. My hair cascaded down my back in perfect flowing waves. It shined in the harsh fluorescent light of the women's bathroom. As it came to rest, framing my face and cascading down my back, I realized it was certainly a few inches longer and several shades lighter than it had been even a moment ago.

I experimented with it for several minutes, and I found I couldn't do a single thing to make it look any less than amazing. I could tie it in knots, and the knots would settle into elaborate braids. I pulled on it, and watched it grow longer in my hands. All the while it shifted in texture and color to fit a look or a mood or the light. It was down past my waist by the time I stopped.

I stood there enraptured for a time. My skepticism was blown away. The app didn't just work, it was perfect. Magical.

As I stepped back out from the restroom, I marveled at the pictures on my phone. The frumpy selfie I had taken minutes ago now looked effortlessly Instagram-worthy, and every photo I could find of myself going back years, which was a lot more, now, featured unbelievable hair and makeup in a thousand styles and colors.

It was only then that I noticed my phone was different too - It had lost some cracks and scratches, and I realized it was a newer model. My shoes were a pair that I'd dismissed as overpriced just a week ago. An old-looking car key jingled in my bag.

A quick check of my LonelyFans dashboard showed me why - I had way more subscribers now than I'd had this morning, and it looked like I'd had them for a while. Effortless, untouchable beauty seemed like it was pretty lucrative.

I had been scrolling back through my old photos and posts for a while, reacquainting myself with my life. My class schedule hadn't changed. I was still a Pre-Law major, but now I was doing a minor in Business Administration. I'd had a couple more boyfriends in high school. I was already Prom Queen, but now I'd been Homecoming Queen too.

I kept scrolling. Alyssa, my best friend from high school, had come out as gay in Junior year, two years sooner than I remembered. And she went to State Northern U now, too. Judging by our lengthy text history, she was in a bunch of my classes.

Huh.

Was she into me? We weren't a couple now, were we? Was this version of me gay? or bi? It didn't seem that way. Would I be able to tell? Could better hair and makeup have done that? How?

How the hell did any of this work?

Scrolling back through the texts, there was nothing to indicate anything intimate. I felt a little relieved.

The last thing Perfect-Hair-Reality-Me had sent her was 'u know youll always be my bff lol'.

That was timestamped eight days ago. Left on read. Weird.

But at least I hadn't turned her into my girlfriend by accident just because I didn't want to do my makeup in the morning. That would be a difficult conversation for both of us.

In my reality (my old reality?) I hadn't seen her since graduation. Maybe it would be nice to catch up?

Just as I thought that, I got a text. from her.

"hey are you in the SSB?"

What are the odds.

"nvm i see you"