Body Glitter and Pedicure

Britney's suggestions would never have occurred to me in this form. Actually, it's all too extravagant and bizarre for me, but my thoughts start to race anyway. "Brad will definitely like that," I think. At the same time, I also realize that the person Britney and Brad are magically creating out of me isn't really me. But somehow, that's exactly what's interesting and alluring. This is my chance to escape my thoughts, my behavioral patterns, and the expectations my environment has saddled me with over the years. For one evening, I can play a different character, discover it, and experience on my own body and mind what it's like to be this "type" of person. Slowly, my full lips open and I begin to speak: "Phew, I can only vaguely imagine what those things are, but body glitter and clip-on nails sound interesting. I've always wanted to know what longer nails feel like, but they'd get in the way and break right away during soccer. I probably couldn't even type a WhatsApp message with them," I laugh out loud as Britney grins. I look in the mirror at my face and then toward Britney: "There's one more thing. Could you do my makeup? ... But only veeery subtle. Please. Not too heavy." At this question, Britney's grin only gets wider, and she nods almost too eagerly.

Britney whips out a jar of the finest, emerald-green body glitter. "Take a deep breath," she says, but that's not so easy in the tight costume. With a huge, soft brush, she dusts the glitter over my collarbones and my shoulders. The best part? She uses it to directly emphasize my abs. Every time I move, my six-pack shimmers under the neon light as if it were carved from marble. It feels strange to be in the spotlight like this, but somehow also... powerful.

Even though she would have loved to go "full glam," she listens to me. She only uses a bit of shimmery eyeshadow that makes my eyes light up and a hint of lip gloss. My hair—this drastic peroxide blonde that flashes almost white-silver in the light—she slicks back with some gel into a high bun. "Your cheekbones are insane, Jette. We don't need to hide that," she murmurs, concentrating.

Finally, the clip-on nails. They are pointed, in a metallic green to match the forest fairy look. I'm used to keeping my fingernails short—because of sports and because I'm more of a sweatpants type of person. With these things, I suddenly feel really elegant, almost a bit dangerous. Britney sprays one last cloud of hairspray over everything, and zap—finished.

I look down at myself. The wings vibrate slightly as I nervously shift from one leg to the other. I may still be the shy Jette from northern Germany, but in this light, with this silver hair and the glitter on my skin, I look like a completely different version of myself. Even though I don't feel that way, my appearance alone exudes a supposed self-confidence.