For a Good Time, Wear a Nun's Habit

In the cosmetics section of the CVS, I straightened my nun’s habit. I found the Wet ‘n Wild testers and selected “Fantasy Makers Blue Magic.” Mieko and Alice giggled at me from the Cover Girl section.

“Shhh.”

I uncapped the lipstick. It looked unused, but who knows, it could be covered in herpes. Instead of tracing my lips, I circled them, resulting in looking like the victim of an octopus attack.

“May I help you find some… agh!”

I turned from the mirror, and the clerk jumped back.

In my best British accent I said, “Yes, God bless you! I am not familiar with cosmetics, could you please advise as to a becoming shade for me?”

“Um, well, perhaps a more natural shade…”

Mieko and Alice started giggling. The jig was up. “Thank you, bye!”

Mieko, Alice, and I piled into my mom’s Ford Taurus, beat up with my garage’s blue paint from my parking attempts. I was the third Allen kid to learn to drive on it so at this point my mom didn’t even bother repairing it.

“I need you guys to act cool! Where else should we take Sister Marie Claire?”

Mieko said, “I have an idea!”.

“Welcome to McDonalds,” the bored employee said, her back turned to me while she cleaned up spilled McFlurry candy. “May, I take your… agh!” She startled as she saw my nun’s habit and blue-circled mouth.

“Yes, might it be possible to obtain an application for employment? I’m considering a change in career?”

She stared at me. Look saintly, I told myself, trying to keep an earnest face.

Mieko and Alice burst out into snickers. “Guys!”

My dressing up for deception probably should have ended before junior year in high school, but it continued. In college, all freshmen were required to be on a meal plan, but it was too pricey for me. I chose the cheapest plan with one meal a day. To supplement I had to be sneaky. At dinner I would sneak out a Nalgene of milk and a baggy of Cracklin’ oat bran to have the next morning, but then there was my caffeine problem to solve. There was free coffee at the business school. I just had to look older and wealthier.

So while most 18 year olds stumbled to 8 AM chem 101 in their sweats or pajamas, I’d put on my job interview dress. This would allow me to hit up the Johnson school first. Once, I almost blew my cover. As I moved through the line, a professor type said “Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you before, which program are you in?”

“Animal Science.” I wasn’t caffeinated enough to think of a plausible answer.

“I didn’t know there was a business major devoted to that!”

“It’s independent study. Excuse me, I have to take a phone call.” I snatched two bagels and a coffee and booked it.

After graduating there should be fewer reasons to dress up, right? Nope. Through my 20’s I loved dressing up for Halloween. My favorite costume was to dress up like a Fox News Anchor. I wore a blond wig, a slutty suit dress and carried a cardboard microphone. I would go up to cute guys at bars and say something like “I see you are drinking a Guinness, why do you hate America?

After Halloween, I decided to wear the wig and see how NYC would greet me as a blonde.

I went to one of my favorite bars on the upper West side. The bartender didn’t recognize me, but was very happy to see me.

“Hey beautiful!” Wow, he never greeted me so enthusiastically before.

He brought over two menus. He spoke slowly, as though speaking to an imbecile. “Now this is the beer menu, and this is the food menu.”

I may be blond, but I can read, asshole. I thought. The bartender was a bit rude

Even years later when I lived in Boston, the wig would come out occasionally. I went to a big party at a friend’s house and started dancing with a cute guy, Roberto. I dance enthusiastically, like an epileptic hurricane so of course my wig flew off. Roberto looked disgusted as he handed it back to me. “Call me when you are a real blonde!” He said, and stomped off.

Last year, I put the wig on to surprise my husband, hoping he might find it a sexy surprise. He did a double take, but not in a good way. “Take that off!” He said. “You look like a cheap bimbo.”

Have I outgrown my days of dressing up? Maybe not. I’d like to try the nun’s habit on my husband next time.