Monday, May 30


On Saturday I went to see my hairdresser, a tall blonde woman who always wears sneakers. It’s a new place, crowded with good looking people, and when I see their beauty I am able to relax. My hairdresser always asks me if I want tea or coffee, but if feels as if she’s asking me something profound. Luckily she never asks me about my life, my current job, my holidays. She washes my hair while she’s completely silent, and this is what I like. For a while I felt vain for investing in my own beauty, and even wondered if it was still there. But in a way I am investing in self-love, which is essential, even if your beauty fades.  

Sunday, May 22


Today I went to a concert in town, given by a friend of mine. We hadn’t seen each other in twenty years, and since he was not divorced but happily married, I sort of wondered why all of a sudden he invited me. While trying to find my seat in the dark a big woman shouted: “Margot, it’s me, Carmen, remember, do you remember me?” Indeed I remembered this woman from high school. We weren’t friends, but perhaps she vaguely admired me. She had gained about fifty pounds, but smiled as if it didn’t seem to bother her. She seemed strong and relaxed and started asking me about my life: “So where do you live now, in which neighborhood?” I gave the correct answer, it was a rich neighborhood. Questions about my current job followed. Luckily she didn’t ask me if I had children, and I didn’t ask this question back. Before the concert started I checked if my phone was switched off. And suddenly I realised the somewhat awkward truth: I wasn’t embarrassed about not having children, I wasn’t embarrassed about not having a relationship or not owning a little red corvette. I was embarrassed about my phone.