January 25, 2012: Puzzle Pieces
Letter: Mix
CD Number: 29
Track Number: 2
Song: “Puzzle Pieces” by Saint Motel from This is the Mix
(Picture taken from http://cheapcosmeticplasticsurgeryprices.com/2011/02/the-world-renown-plastic-surgery-institute/)
The woman wheeled the full length mirror into the center of the bare room.
It was four PM, time for self assessment.
Four PM, you see, she had determined to be the best time of day during this season in terms of ambient light to take herself in and be able to make accurate, well informed judgments.
Satisfied with the mirror placement, she disrobed, letting the black silk furisode drop to the floor behind her.
She first began with her legs, inspecting the scarring around her calves, feeling the implants below.
Then, it was on to the Brazilian butt lift where fat from other parts of her body had been purified and injecting into her to give her, if she did say so herself, a gluteus most maximus.
She took time to give homage and praise to the areas where the fat had been lipo’d appreciating their new lean firmness.
There were the breasts, of course, the thin white lines underneath each breast from the first surgery, the almost impercitible one near her navel for the second. She lifted each and dropped them, noting their rigidity and smiling.
Her neck’s skin was tightened thanks to a lift, the La Jolla method. She has a facelift as well, obviously, but felt the neck needed just that little bit extra.
The chin was augmented via mentoplasty to give her a more appealing joyline.
The nose shrunk.
The upper eyelids rendered less puffy.
Lips plumped.
Cheeks permanently made rosy.
The ear pinned back because who could like, never mind love, someone with satellite dishes, right?
The forehead was smooth and rigid, botox holding strong against the expression of human emotion.
The hair she had found a way to improve, coloring and adding extensions.
The eyes wore custom colored lenses to hide that vision correction was necessary to give a sharper hue to her typically pale eyes.
She looked and touched every surgically altered inch of herself to make sure. She appreciated each scar as she knew they made her better, that they were small price to pay for perfection.
She smiled wide and nodded to herself in the mirror. Finally, she had arrived.
She was whole.
She was beautiful.
There need be no further cause for surgeons or injections or days without being able to sit. She was whole.
The perfect merger of organic, synthetic, and chemical.
Although…
Reach out and touch me at tim.g.stevens@gmail.com or @ungajje on the Twitter. Let me know what you love and what you hate. And please, do spread the word.