Crisis of middle age)

Crisis of middle age spread over Ira suddenly, directly in hairdressing salon...
"We do not want to tint a gray hair? Though, here at you there is not a lot of, I will pull out now" — the master efficiently specified, and, without waiting for the answer, habitually pulled out of Ira a head floor.
Five hairs which are passed by the master to Ira pulled out already at home, all family. The husband hid eyes, and the heartless oldest daughter sufferingly rolled up them, showing that she has affairs more important, than to dig in the head of aged mother.
Ira pulled out the following ten itself, washing down each gray-haired hair with a bottle of red wine, and then bought twelve face creams, jeans in covering, busik and Kiev cake.

After cake of denim it was necessary to carry back in shop.
The husband cautiously sat in a corner, hiding for a cat. He already incorrectly answered a question whether the difference after a month of use of the Korean cream with tears of a mountain snail virgin is noticeable, and now tried not to draw excess attention to himself.
Every day brought new unpleasant opening. The pink charm of eternal youth went cracks and crumbled in the eyes as an old Byzantine fresco.
It could not resist to goose pads, mimic wrinkles, nasolabial folds and other signs that a watch not just ticks, and, actually, beat midnight as hours on Spasskaya Tower.

Disposal was sudden, in the person of the acquaintance who appeared on the horizon whom Ira did not see hundred years.
The acquaintance successfully made a gialuronka, a couple of fillers, Botox bluntly and sponges, and became madly similar to a posthumous mask of Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin in color.
Ira delicately nodded, with special attention wrote down the cosmetologist-magician's phone, and hardly held the impolite laughter which is torn outside.
Houses, impressed with what was seen, Ira drank up the remains of wine and for the first time for the last half a year went to sleep, without having smeared a half of South Korea on the goose pads.
It dreamed Arina Rodionovna with a nedovyazanny stocking in wrinkled hands...

Yulya Shi.