Remember this post, which I wrote six months ago, about the blonde in the shirtdress that I saw at Toro one night last June? She was ethereal and perfect and her hair was the lightest shade of all-over platinum. Well, she became my unforgettable model of blondeness that evening. I have kept her in the back of my mind as a personal icon how to be a blonde ever since.
So, isn't it interesting that my very first night as a brunette, the very first customer that I waited on should be a brunette in a shirtdress? And she wasn't just any brunette, this girl. She was absolutely gorgeous: her deep, dark brown locks glinted with a hint of auburn, and cascaded over her shoulders and down her back to tickle her shoulder blades and her cleavage; her searing brown eyes were framed by long, perfect black lashes. She was voluptuous and sexy, a vision of perfect, palpable sex appeal. The guy she was with wasn't so bad himself--a tall, dark, and handsome type who seemed as though he probably had a lot of money. However, the brunette on his arm was the real starlet of the evening. She was polite and nice, but not in a ditzy or demure way. She exuded confidence and elegance.
"Jackpot!" I thought as I walked over to greet the table. "A pretty brunette couple being waited on by a newly christened brunette! What could be a better way to indoctrinate myself into this new club?" When I told Tony, the fabulous Brazilian busser who calls me Barbie (or used too), that she was my model as a brunette, he just looked at me. "Really, Kitty?" he said. "I don't know...you were so fabulous as a blonde, why'd you dye it anyway?" Tony is Brazilian after all, so I am totally not surprised by this reaction.
A while later, after watching the brunette in the shirtdress walk down the narrow corridor of the dining room towards the powder room, Tony just looked at me, shaking his head: "Now I know what you mean girl--she is sexy, she looks like she's walking on the catwalk!"
Who would have thought that my brunette icon, my new model of how to live in my new hair color, would be found sitting right in my station on my very first night as a brunette? I hate to be such a nerd, but I couldn't help but take it as a sign. I had, after all, tried like the dickens to get my shift covered that evening, petrified to display my new look to everyone i know in the South End without having some time to get used to it first. I mean, what if i hated it? What if I couldn't handle it and couldn't get out of Jason's chair that fateful Thursday? What if I looked ugly? How was I supposed to wait tables if the whole browning process went horribly awry? All of these thoughts raced thru my head as I dialed server after server to see if they could cover my shift on Thursday morning...
And thank goodness everyone I called ignored me, or I never would have met the brunette in the shirtdress.