Free A Little Change of Face by Lauren Baratz-Logsted

wardrobe, not the little dog. Having pulled herself up onto a big black inner tube, she was lazing around the pool, using her hands to gently provide the motion. “But Scarlett’s clothes still have some shape to them. She needs to go in the other direction.” Then she looked at me, smiled. “I could help you out with that. I could take you shopping.”
    â€œWell,” said Delta, leaning over to finger my raven mane, “the hair would have to go.” She fluffed her own Dolly Parton-wannabe tresses. “Can’t be trying to slum it with pretty hair.”
    â€œOh,” said T.B., getting into the spirit of things, although I could tell she didn’t believe I’d ever do it, “and you’d need to get some glasses.”
    â€œI could do that,” I asserted. “I wear contacts. I’ll just switch.”
    â€œNo heels,” warned Delta. “Ever.”
    â€œGreat,” I enthused. I’d reached an age where I was tired of the pain of occasionally wearing heels, even if those heels were sometimes the only things standing between me and regular teasing by my gal pals at my lack of significant height.
    â€œAnd no makeup,” T.B. laughed. “Not that you ever wear any to speak of, anyway,” which was true. A little lipstick in the winter, just enough so that the chapping wouldn’t make me look like Linda Blair in The Exorcist, and I was pretty much well ready to face the world.
    â€œHey,” Delta laughed, “and if you really want to make it challenging for a man to fall in love with you, you could borrow my kids for a while!”
    â€œUm, no, thank you,” I said. It wasn’t that I was put off by the idea of kids in general so much as I was put off by the idea of Delta’s kids in particular.
    â€œOh, come on,” Delta encouraged. “Believe me, it’ll make it nearly impossible to find Prince Charming, if you’ve got a couple of kids at home.”
    â€œWho ever said I was searching for Prince Charming?” I asked.
    â€œHeh,” T.B. laughed softly. “Ain’t we all?”
    â€œWell, no,” said Delta, going all literal on us. “I don’t think lesbians are looking for Prince Charming at all.”
    â€œPrince Charming, Princess Charming,” said T.B., “it’s the same thing.”
    All the while, Pam had been floating around in the pool, a smile playing on her lips as she tilted her face to the sun, eyes closed. She had the look of someone who was content to let others do her dirty work for her.
    â€œOkay,” I said, feeling that I needed to object to something, but reluctant to address the particularly objectionable things that they were saying, “let’s say I do all this. What do I do about where I live, where I work?”
    â€œHuh?” asked Pam, nearly falling off her float as she sat up too quickly.
    â€œThink about it,” I said. “I can’t just show up at work one day looking radically different—people will think I’m nuts. I can’t stay living in the same place after going from swan to anti-swan. Did I mention that people will think I’ve gone nuts? All my neighbors will think I’ve gone nuts. People would ask questions. I’d have to give explanations.”
    Pam shrugged, settled back, smiled. “So you’ll get a new job. So you’ll move.”
    â€œJust like that?” I asked.
    â€œSure.” Pam shrugged again. “Why not?”
    I thought about it. Would it really be that hard to do? I wasn’t that attached to my job. I certainly wasn’t that attached to where I lived. Except for the pool. But it would be Labor Day again before I knew it, which meant no more swimming for nine months, anyway. And leaving the library would get me away from Mr. Weinerman….
    â€œYou know,” Pam said in a devilishly seductive tone, “you could also bind your