The hair salon looked just like Constance had imagined from the bad reviews: a run-down building in a dirty part of town. When she went inside, she found it lovelessly furnished. A girl was standing at the register, focused on her phone.
“Hello, I’m here for my appointment,” Constance said.
“Mhm,” the girl responded, not looking up from her phone.
An awkward silence followed until Constance felt the need to break. “My name is Constance.”
The girl sighed and finally looked up from her phone. “Fine. What do you want?”
The girl’s attitude irritated Constance but, at the same time, made her feel like being in the right place for a cheap makeover.
“Well, I want to dye my hair, and I was thinking of going light blonde. Just go as blonde as possible.”
“Hm, it would fit your makeup,” the girl responded, a little more welcoming. “Follow me. I’ll make your hair fit your look perfectly.”
She led Constance into another room which looked just as loveless as the first. Still, a strange warmth came over Constance when she sat down in the chair. It was a calmness that she didn’t recognize but instantly knew what it meant: she felt at home.
The comfortable feeling lasted until the hairdresser began working and chatting with her.
“So, what shows are you watching?”
“Uhm, none, really,” Constance answered. She wasn’t sure what the girl was talking about. “What about you?”
“I’m obsessed with 90 Day Fiancé right now. Have you seen it?”
“No, what is it about?” Constance asked, genuinely curious.
As the girl began enthusiastically explaining all that happened during the latest seasons, Constance learned of a world of reality TV she had been missing out on. Her conversation with her friends had always been about scientific or political topics. But the conversation she was having with her hairdresser was delightfully meaningless. These were just stories of petty drama that this girl treated as the most important thing in the world. It felt refreshingly shallow to participate in this conversation.
And it felt like it fit her new look perfectly.
When Constance’s hair was done, she felt hooked on a few shows just by listening to her hairdresser’s retellings. She knew she would spend the next days obsessively binging whatever reality show she could find.
Her plans were reinforced when her new hair color was revealed.
As she had wished, her hair was bleached to the max, making it look blatantly fake. The natural beauty she had possessed was nowhere to be seen. She looked cheap and tacky.
“I look amazing,” Constance muttered in awe.
“Yes, you do!” her hairdresser agreed. “You’ll turn so many heads with this look!”
***
Once Constance returned home, she opened her notebook and deleted all bookmarks to any scientific or political website she had saved. She did the same with any educational apps on her phone. Those were not the things she wanted to be associated with.
Instead, she signed up at a streaming service and pressed play on a show called ‘Love Island’, which seemed like the shows her hairdresser had been raving about.
The episode drew her in immediately, and time passed in a blink of an eye.
Constance was thrilled with the entertainment she felt, shutting her mind down and letting the drama seep into her world. But after the episode, she felt an intense need to gossip with someone about the things that had happened. She craved to bond with someone with no other interests than meaningless TV shows and drama.
After pondering it for a while, Constance opened her Facebook account and started searching. It didn’t take long for her to find who she was looking for. Kendra was a childhood friend from her private High School. They used to be fairly close until Kendra’s parents started having trouble in their marriage during junior year. Kendra reacted by rebelling, losing interest in all educational and extracurricular activities. A few months later, her parents divorced, and Kendra was put into a public High School. That’s when Constance’s parents forbid their daughter to see Kendra again.
Looking through Kendra’s profile, Constance saw she had never overcome her rebellious phase. Kendra dropped out of High School and worked whatever minimum-wage job she could get. Her picture gallery consisted mainly of pictures of her partying with a drink and cigarette in her hand. Her clothes were sluttier than anything Constance had ever worn. But she saw the growing similarities as she looked at her makeup and hair.
Excited, Constance opened a new message and started typing.