BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT BEAUTIFUL

18. Because I'm not beautiful

"Ra, it's nothing, right?" sister Gita touched the week of my shoulder, so that all the daydreams were spoiled, only tears were left that were still flowing profusely.

A whole new time this time insulted people. It felt really sick, piercing into the heart. Especially by people who have stopped in our hearts. Oh Allah .. I can only.

"That artifact is really evil!" said Aya. "See you later, if you go to the office, I'll teach him a lesson!" Aya clenched her fingers. "You're Ris, play slap. I was shocked, so I forgot to hit him. Though I'm sure my blow is harder than yours."

"Just boy. My slap was hard. Look at Arif's cheeks until it's red" said Risa.

"I don't know if you can also play hands, Ris" said Dini.

"Ra," sister Gita turned to me.

"Sir, Rara can let today's truant?" I asked, while removing the rough rest of the tears.

"You want to go home, Ra? Brother among ya?" sister Gita offers help.

"Not for brother. Rara wants to go around first." I immediately passed leaving the four of them to the parking lot.

My real briefcase is still in the office. But I was lazy to enter. In the pocket there is a HP and a motor key. While in the motorcycle seat there is a wallet that I always put there because I was worried that go-away forgetfulness brought it.

The motor began to advance, with the mind glaring far ahead.

So right, the marriage failed not because I was too good. Precisely because I had so many defects that he abandoned me.

Again the clear circle back flowing. Beautiful, why should that hurt me.

***

I don't know how long I've been in front of a building that says beauty salon. Suddenly I realized that I was being reprimanded by a security guard.

"Want to come in?" ask the security guard, smilingly opening the glass door.

I did not answer, just a few steps until my position was in the Muslim salon. Then shut up again. Confused what to do.

This is the first time I've set foot in a salon. Actually, my friends used to invite you together, but I refused because I am not a typical person who likes grooming. I prefer natural, as it is.

Usually, if you go to work, wear a long robe and veil. The face is completely without polish, even if only powder.

"Can you help me, ma'am?" a receptionist smiled kindly at me.

"Hmmm, I want .. salon, that, would be nice." I said hesitantly, worried about the wrong talk because I was confused about what to do here. Just coming here was completely unconscious. Just step away. Maybe this is what is called the subconscious mind. I was asked to the salon, which was considered a buzzword for heartache medicine because it was called not beautiful. But what is it, can you make it beautiful?

"There are many treatments that can be done to look beautiful. Who would you like to try?" he offered a brochure containing various types of treatments, complete with the price so that it made me stunned.

Masks alone can be hundreds to millions. What's that mask on? It's a pity. Not to mention lasser, plant yarn and I don't know what. I really don't understand. My head's dizzy. What's this beautiful?

"You clean your face just as much as creambath." I said, opening my wallet. Issuing several sheets of hundreds of thousands according to the nominal stated on the paper package of treatments offered.

Bye three hundred thousand. I'm sorry, you have to be wasted so I can look forward to a little!

I went into the treatment room. Then open the hijab and start on creambath. During the treatment process, my mind floated around, imagining Monika's pretty face.

Just about to compare again, I suddenly realized. Why should I be less. We are both God's creatures. So always Mama cheered when I told her about pretty school friends.

"Mom, can I be pretty?" that perfunctory question slid just like that on the mbak who served me creambath.

He glanced at me, then nodded. "Mbak is beautiful. Maybe just lack of care. That's why his facial skin is dull. I rarely clean my face. Also rarely use moisturizers when out of the house, especially in the sun" said the doctor. He mentioned the difference in skin of my face that was covered with no. There is a black line of sunburn effect once the veil is removed.

"Not infrequently anymore, but never." I answered honestly, as it is.

"Want, because it's a dull and pimpled face. Try to clean, continue to diligently use the moisturizer will certainly be black-black slowly lost."

"Certainly mbak?"

"Yes. I also used to be black and sorry a little dirty like mbak, but after understanding and so good enough right."

"Yes." I nodded. Actually a bit offended said to be dirty, when my clothes are very clean, but yes, that's it. I just accept his assessment.

When I finished, I continued the facial and did some treatments for the facial skin. It feels comfortable too. The aches are gone, the face is also a bit light. Maybe because it was so thick. Understand, since childhood never cleaned except with bath soap.

As the treatment I was about to finish, suddenly from the next room came a scream. I immediately glanced at the doctor, asking for an explanation.

"It's on lasser, ma'am. Usually a lot of pimples. That's why I screamed so loud. Or another treatment. I don't know for sure either." he answered kindly.

Not long out someone while grimacing towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway. Face swollen. I asked again.

"That's out of operation usually mbak. Want to stick your nose." said mbak earlier.

"Well, nose job?" I jumped in shock. Who wants to be pointed at the nose but why his face is red and looks swollen.

"The medicinal effect is mbak. But it's a good thing if the operation is in the right place like here. Try the operation in an abal-abal place. There could even be a face infection."

"Yes Allah ...."

Hearing the answer from the mother, I became horrified myself. Hard also turns out to be a struggle to be beautiful. Moreover, there are those who have to undergo surgery, suction to plant planting yarn.

Are they traumatized by their pain? I just imagine it has gone straight to the creeps. Remember when I was hospitalized for typhoid it was not snagguo. Hands must be flushed. A few times injected. It really makes me stump. I don't dare.

In ancient times, Muslims were busy repairing their deeds. Not just focusing on improving your appearance. Oh Allah ... Astagfirullah.

"Sir, it's over" the therapist told me.

"Huh, oh yeah mbak. Sorry I was daydreaming. It's good that his face is so incised. This is the first time." I said.

"Well, don't get married, that's treatment."

"Hahaha," I shake my head. Why should I discuss mbak? I wanted to get married, but it was cancelled.

Because I was worried about talking again and blinded my sensitive heart offended, so I hurried away from the beauty salon.