Kitchen Witch

19 | Ceilidh

Sarah had come over to get ready for the ceilidh with Charlotte. The first ceilidh of the year, and Charlotte's first, was taking place at the local legion. A celebration of the long winter well behind them and a promising start to the lobster season well underway. Charlotte had never been one for dancing, much more of a wallflower, blending into the background, but she was looking forward to taking in the experience. She might have also been keen on running into a certain red-headed fisherman, whom Sarah had heard would be in attendance. Charlotte suspected that it was more a case of Sarah having prodded him to make an appearance, as he really didn't seem like the social type.

"Ughh, I'm all thumbs with this thing and have already burned my finger once," Sarah said, holding the offending curling iron out in frustration. "I really need to splurge on one of those air-wrap curling irons. Have you seen the video showing what they can do? It's like magic." Sarah turned to Charlotte with a look of pure genius on her face, as if she had just figured out the wheel of fortune puzzle. "You don't think – I mean, it uses hot air–"

Charlotte squealed as her daughter Airlie would have. "Omg, yes!" Charlotte took a breath in through her nose and centered herself, her eyes lighting up with glee and raised her right hand, curling her fingers. A controlled stream of hot air picked up a purple section of Sarah's hair and curled it into a perfect beach wave. "I can do better than that." She raised her left hand and began to work both hands faster, doing multiple sections of hair at once. Sarah looked like Medusa for a few moments before being transformed into a purple and pink head of beach waves.

Sarah spun around, delighted with her new look. "You, my dear, are a very handy friend to have."

"I could say the same about you! Now it's my turn, help me transform this–" She waved her hand up and down over her body.

"Let's see what we are working with." Sarah headed to Charlotte's modest closet, stuffed to the brim with a mismatch of clothing. "Not that, not that, definitely not that–" She pulled out a big floral-looking muumuu. "What the fuck Char?"

"What? It's comfortable, and I spend hours working on my feet."

"Ummm, so do I, but I don't look like one of the Golden Girls doing it." Sarah flipped her newly formed curls to drive home her point. "There's got to be something in here that will show off some of your body–how about this?" Sarah held out a stretchy maroon bandage bodycon dress with a very wicked look on her face. It was one of the few things Charlotte had kept from before because it wasn't black and was stretchy enough that it might just still fit.

Charlotte groaned and begrudgingly started to work the dress on over her body. Despite its stretchiness it was still a tight fit and clung to every lump and bump. Charlotte looked in the mirror. "I'm not sure stuffed sausage busting in the middle was the look I was going for."

"You just need the right undergarments. Please tell me you have some of those smoothing underpants."

"Ughh, I think I do, although why I held onto those wretched torture devices, I don't know." Charlotte rummaged through one of her drawers and pulled out a not-so-sexy-looking beige bathing suit-looking thing that looked like it would fit a toddler. She wrestled out of the dress and, already sweating, started to tug and pull and jump, trying to get into the shapewear. "I swear I'm going to pee my pants trying to get into this bloody thing." Sarah sat down on the bed to watch, fully enjoying the comedic show taking place. "So glad you're enjoying this." Charlotte finished yanking down the dress, paused to catch her breath, and stepped back to look in the mirror.

"Oh my god, you look amazing, Char. If Riley Keane doesn't take notice now, the man is blind."

Charlotte stood in front of the mirror. The shapewear had done its trick, like a filter on a photo. It had smoothed her lumps and bumps, and while it couldn't hide the fact that she was no longer a size 6, it definitely showed off her round, sensual curves. But it was suffocating; this wasn't her; she couldn't breathe and began to panic. She began to try to pull the dress off but struggled with all the sweat clinging to her skin from wrestling into it.