Mary was 45 years old.
Some of her friends looked years younger. They took care of themselves: visited beauty salons, swam at the pool, hit the gym, and watched their diets. Appearance was their top priority.
The same couldn’t be said for Mary. At 18, she married Nick. She didn’t feel deep love for him. Six months later, he proposed, and the young couple tied the knot. At first, Mary didn’t notice how different they were. Nick loved spending his free time partying with friends—never without alcohol—and found home life boring. Mary, however, was refined and educated, unable to sleep without a book in hand. After graduating from a cultural institute, she landed a job at a library, though the pay was meager. Nick worked at a factory, but when orders dried up, management sent workers on unpaid leave. Life became tough for the young family, especially with a growing daughter. Nick started spending more time in the garage. Mary noticed money disappearing from her purse. She tried talking to him about finding extra work.
— Nick, why don’t you drive a taxi while the factory’s down?
— No way, I’m not doing that.
Mary wept bitterly; money was desperately short. Their daughter, Lisa, was often sick, requiring expensive medicine. There wasn’t enough for a family of three. A friend got Mary a cleaning job at a store.
Years passed, and things only got worse. Nick left the factory for construction work, but his crew’s jobs were irregular, so money trickled in unevenly.
Mary couldn’t even consider divorce. She feared what people would say, so she endured, crying at night.
— Nick, are you ever going to get a proper job? I’m working three places already. Aren’t you ashamed?
— Nobody’s forcing you to work. I don’t want to hear this again.
Mary realized she couldn’t change him.
When Mary turned 40, Lisa got married. They had to borrow money from friends for the wedding.
Soon, Mary saw, with a heavy heart, that Lisa was repeating her mother’s fate. Lisa’s husband, Ethan, started drinking and spoke harshly to his young wife. Life got even harder for Mary. Ethan didn’t work, and the couple had taken out a mortgage. Lisa continued her studies at a paid university program. Poor Mary had no time to care for herself, constantly thinking about where to find more work.
At 45, Mary’s life changed dramatically. As usual, she stopped by the supermarket one evening to buy groceries. With a full cart, she stood in line. Suddenly, two teenage girls tried to cut in front of her. Mary, who’d been waiting for 30 minutes, spoke up.
— Girls, have you no shame? Look, everyone’s waiting. Are you that special?
One of the girls turned around.
— Lady, be quiet. You retirees can stand in line all day, but we’re busy. You’ve got nothing else to do on your pension.
The words stung Mary.
At home, she stood before the mirror, studying herself critically. When was the last time she’d taken care of herself? She barely used cream on her face or hands, and only sporadically. She hadn’t dyed her hair; gray strands were creeping in. Wrinkles added years to her face. She bought cheap makeup, sometimes leaving the house without any, seeing no point in it.
From morning to night, she worked like a hamster on a wheel. Her wardrobe favored gray, brown, and black clothes—colors that hid dirt. She owned no pretty dresses. Shoes were a problem too; she stuck to flats and low-heeled pumps. Mary shopped at thrift stores and secondhand shops.
She caught herself thinking she was living like the heroine of the movie The Princess and the Pauper. In the film, the main character supported her pensioner mother, who gave her entire pension to a political party, a young son, a selfish grown daughter, and a lazy ex-husband.
Mary pushed away sad thoughts to avoid depression. She came home so exhausted that she could only cook and shower. Sometimes she fell asleep at the table.
Looking at her hands, she saw veins bulging from carrying heavy bags and daily hand-washing—she still hadn’t bought a washing machine. No manicure, of course; her nails were broken. She thought to herself:
“Are those girls right? Could I pass for a retiree? How did this happen? I used to be the prettiest girl in class—boys fought over who’d carry my bag. What’s wrong with me? How did I let myself go? I had golden hair, blue eyes, rosy skin… What’s happened to my looks? Maybe they’re right—I look like a pensioner.”
Mary cried.
Then, suddenly, she decided she wouldn’t let herself be hurt anymore. No more acting like a workhorse, slaving for three, or carrying two families without rest. By 45, she’d accumulated a host of health problems. She slept four hours a night. Dark circles framed her eyes, her face was gray—nothing good. What man would notice a woman like her? No one. Her former beauty was gone.
A plan formed in her mind.
“I need to change my life. I deserve better!”
Mary checked her wallet, which held a decent sum, and thought:
— No more buying wallpaper. I’m done!
The next morning, she woke up energized, hopeful for positive change. She decided to live for herself and called Lisa.
— Lisa, I get it. You married poorly. You need money for school, for the apartment. But I can’t keep working like a mule. I suggest you get a job, like me. You can study part-time. And if your husband’s no good, divorce him—don’t follow my example. You can’t undervalue your life, sacrificing for someone who doesn’t deserve you. Think about it!
Mary visited a beauty salon. Hesitating at the entrance, she nearly turned back.
“What’s the point? Maybe I shouldn’t…”
But she saw beautiful women leaving, thrilled with their transformations.
The receptionist noticed Mary’s unease and stepped in.
— Good afternoon! Come in, don’t be shy. Tea or coffee?
— No, thank you. It’s my first time here—I don’t know where to start.
The receptionist invited Mary to sit and left briefly.
She returned with a stylish woman.
— Hello, I’m Sarah, a hairstylist. How can I help?
— I’d like to dye my hair. And maybe get a haircut.
— Great.
Sarah began working her magic on Mary’s hair.
— What color would you like?
— Let’s go red, like the sun.
— Bold choice. Let’s do it.
In Sarah’s skilled hands, Mary became a different woman. She barely recognized herself in the mirror—a striking brunette stared back, though her face looked tired.
Sarah said:
— I’m handing you over to our esthetician. Sound good?
— Absolutely. Today, I’m making up for lost time.
Sarah laughed.
— Been a while since you visited a salon?
— You won’t believe it—I’ve never been.
— Don’t worry. You’re amazing for coming here.
The esthetician, Olivia, advised Mary on skincare and performed a few treatments. Next, Jane gave Mary a manicure and pedicure. Stylist Natalie applied daytime makeup.
The team gathered to show Mary before-and-after photos. She was stunned.
Leaving the salon, Mary felt like a beautiful woman. Men turned to look at her, and a smile lit up her face.
— I can still be happy! Next up: shopping!
Spotting a boutique, she checked her wallet and felt confident. She planned to splurge. Mary bought lingerie, stockings, two pairs of shoes, and three dresses. The clothes she’d worn to the store? She threw them out.
— That’s it! A new life awaits—one with no more tears or backbreaking work.
When Mary got home, Nick didn’t recognize her. He was lounging by the TV with a beer and some snacks.
— Why’d you dye your hair? Where’d you get that dress? How much did this cost?
— Don’t you like it?
— I don’t get it. What’s the point of this makeover? Money’s what matters—why waste it?
The doorbell rang. It was Lisa, confused by her mother’s earlier call. Crossing the threshold, she gasped.
— Mom, you’re unrecognizable! You’re gorgeous! You look years younger! How much did this cost?
— Let’s go to the kitchen.
— Mom, do you have a new man? You’re glowing…
— No, sweetheart. I just realized I’m a woman. I’ve never pampered myself, never bought anything nice. You go to the salon, get manicures every month, but today was my first time in a salon—ever. I’ve never felt this happy. Maybe only when I had you… I remember that day so clearly, becoming a mom… I’ll remember today forever, too. Not just because I changed my hair and bought clothes—starting today, I’ll live the way I want. I’m joining a pool and a gym. As for you, please take charge of your life. I’ll help with the grandkids you’ll give me. Talk to your husband seriously. Now, excuse me, I need to speak to your dad and head to an interview. I’m applying for a solid job—office work. No more cleaning stairwells or selling newspapers.
Mary saw Lisa out and approached Nick.
— Turn off the TV, please. We need to talk. I’m filing for divorce. You’re not working, and I’m done supporting you. I’m living for myself first now. For 20 years, I waited for you to get it together—enough. I’m off to find a job, and I suggest you do the same.
Nick stood silent. It hit him: Mary, who’d provided for him and kept their life comfortable, was leaving. How would he manage without her? She’d carried everything.
While Nick sat in shock, Mary walked down the street with confidence. She had no doubt the dark days were behind her. A well-paying job awaited, maybe even new love. These thoughts made her heart race with joy, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
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