We made our way to the mirrors and I surveyed the damage. My eyelashes were a stubby mess and my bangs were scorched but most painfully my ego was bruised beyond belief. I felt like a silly fool as I stared at the face of a girl who couldn’t hold a flame still enough to prevent lighting herself on fire. As the realization of my stupidity washed over me I heard the bathroom attendant behind me ask loudly, “Who’s smoking? Is someone smoking a cigarette?” I turn to her and proclaim with shame, “It’s my hair! I burned my hair!” She shut her mouth suddenly, shock painted on her face.
There was no salvaging the night as my jovial mood had disappeared with my bangs and Nadia and I headed for the door. I held my hand over my eye in a mock pirate patch to cover my embarrassment and elbowed my way to the exit. By the time we pushed through the doors of the bar I couldn’t contain my humiliation anymore and what was left of my mascara became streams of black tears on my cheeks. We drove home in silence, the scene playing on a continuous reel in my head.
I was mortified by my stupidity and disgusted that my filthy habit had done damage to my hair and my pride. I vowed to give up the cancer sticks and threw out my last pack this morning. My bangs will grow back and my eyelashes return, my confidence may take a bit longer. I’ve resolved to retire my sex kitten costume and spend the next few weekends away from the crush of the crowds and the hot spot circuit. At least until the bruises of being a dumb ass fade away.
