Makeover or Disguise?

In the normal course of events our lives in sunny Salop are what you might call 'low key'. But before continuing this line of thought I have to say that Salop is not and has not been very sunny at all this summer but 'sunny' is nicely alliterative and welcoming in the first line of a bleaty blog. To continue... Those exciting invitations that cry out 'look at me and my amazing whirl of social engagements' do not grace our mantlepiece or provide a focus on the notice board. My good man works hard long hours to earn the money to pay the bills. He also likes working and seems to be bred for it from generations of nose to grindstone sort of folk, salt of the earth I think you would call them. Anyway, we are by nature grumpy and unsociable misfits in society so when an invitation to an evening wedding 'do' arrived it was accepted with sighs and misgivings.

'What'll I wear ?', was quickly followed by 'Who will be there that we know?', 'Can we leave early?' and finally ' How much shall we give them?' Cheques in lieu of wedding presents were requested. This couple already had a house, furnishings and furniture.. everything except the one item needed to ensure their married bliss- a conservatory. So a cheque it was towards their dream glasshouse.
We arrived at the venue, a rather impressive country hotel in Brecon in a monsoon. It really was a foul night, dark and dismal. The cedars, scots pine and conifers overhanging the car park were dripping wet and the lawn soggy underfoot.We sneaked unnoticed through the grand doors, I in my Mand S blouse and flowery skirt and the other half in in his Harris tweed blue sports jacket. There were already hundreds of wedding guests milling about inside well into celebrating the occasion. We headed for the bar meeting and exchanging civilities with our glamorous and kind hostess on the way towards two orange juices. Need I mention, drinking is not our thing.
We ordered our drinks and looked around.
'Hello, how are you? Haven't seen you for years.'
A very attractive blonde standing next to me was obviously talking to me. I replied civilly enough, thinking I haven't a clue who you are but maybe you 're a passing acquaintance and I can wing it.
'You don't know who I am , do you? She grinned, straight to the point. What could I say?
' Sorry, I'm afraid I don't'. Honesty and politeness might save the day.
'Sarah, you know, Sarah Sarson'.
I recognised the name immediately from long ago, twenty five years or more.
'Yes of course, How lovely to see you again', I said with slight embarrassment and total confusion. The Sarah I knew was fresh faced , pink and white complexioned with a grin showing a set of slightly uneven teeth. She had bouncing wavy brown hair, was buxom in a pleasant healthy way and exuded down to earth country style.
This glamorous person standing alongside me had straight yellow blonde hair cut in a bob with a fringe. Her teeth sparkled white and even and an off the shoulder dress revealed smooth suntanned skin setting off the gold bling perfectly. I know the conversation continued - children, houses, work etc. but my mind was still grappling with the incongruities of past and present.
Could I trust my memory? Sure, I was positive. So where was the old Sarah or was she essentially the same even though her appearence was so completely changed.The fact was I was completely thrown and floundering.
The conversation drifted on but there was no spark in it Eventually we moved on to supper and I took a look around. I reckon 90% of the women in the dining room wore extremely smart fashionable dresses, were tanned in spite of this impossible British summer and had coloured their hair in amazing kaleidoscope shades.
So this is the fashion. It's fun and trendy, but like the Emperors New Clothes it's all humbug really.. How much time and effort and money does it take? Can any of us achieve perfection in looks and appearance. I think there are better things to strive for. I preferred the old Sarah. honest and natural. I was uneasy with what was essentially a disguise. I'm going to grow old gracefully I hope and come to terms with my failing looks and faculties. Forget the nips and tucks kindness and wisdom sit comfortably on a lined old face under grey hair.