True Mirrors Self

Some entertainment

Thanksgiving was a blessed thing. Kind people welcomed me into their homes. Comfort. I drove a bunch too. The weekend wore me out but it feels like a day to share. So here are two things. 

1. A poem from 2013 “Mirrors” with audio

2. A story from 2010 “True Self”

Mirrors from 2013 (I think I wrote it in Starbucks). Sorry for the shoddy sound and abrupt end. I’m lazy sometimes.

Mirrors scattered about the room.
Some shattered - tiny peanut shells,
Some distorted - contorted circus shapes.
They brighten the room,
Reflective patterns on the walls, ceiling and floor
Stars of light, dancing.
Every day there are more.
They are beginning to cover the floor.
I no longer know the color of the walls
Or even the shape of the room.
Everywhere I look I see
Light, mirrors, little bits of me, 
Pieces of me in fragments - staring back
on top of me, below me, next to me.
I see
Every wrinkle and pimple,
Hair and hangnail
Every curve of muscle and fat.
I see so much
I've become uncomfortable, self conscious
 - can't remove my clothes.
Yet the only one looking
Is me.  

True Self - 2010. I may have actually written this at work…

Steph had reached her final straw. One of her FaceBook friends had told her about the miracles this man could perform. She was scared, but she did not want to go on living if she had to continue the way she was. She glanced through the contract the man had given her. It was just a bunch of legalese. She was so nervous. She let out a short breath. “I need to get this over with.” She quickly signed the line marked “x” at the bottom of the page and walked to the front counter where the man stood.

“Done already?” He asked.

“Yes,” she nodded and handed him the signed contract.

He glanced at her signature, “Do you have an extra set of clothes, Ms. Russell.”

“Yes, they’re in my bag.”

“Well then, please make a selection. Feel free to take as long as you need.”

She looked over the photos in the catalog carefully. They all looked wonderful. She selected style four. 

The gentleman looked her in the eye. “Are you sure?” he asked, a loving tone in his voice. “This is a very important decision. The process cannot be repeated or altered in any manner. Whatever you select, you will have forever.”

“Yes, number four” she breathed.

“Good.” He smiled. He reached under the counter and pulled out a small wooden box marked with four lines. He then stood, stepped around the counter and walked across the room to the front door. He locked the door and pulled the curtains shut. “You’ll want to place your bag on the counter, Ms. Russell. Then please stand within the circle on the floor.” He pointed to a white circle drawn in chalk on the floor. As she moved into position, he held the box reverently in his hands and took several deep, calming breaths. It was almost as if he were trying to extract the contents from a deep sense of well-being. “Please close your eyes.” When he saw her eyes were closed, he turned his face away and opened the box towards her.

The white light shot silently from the box and across her body in a shiver of searing heat. The clothes covering her over ripe body burned to cinders. The outer layer of her flesh also burned, as well as the 5 inches of fat that layered her torso, the 3 inches of flap on her arms and the drooping fat that layered her back. The light shone down and seared away the extra flesh that surrounded her leg muscles. There were no smells or sounds. There was only the flashing of the light as it worked down Steph’s body. It peeled away the rolling folds above her ankles and cleared away the varicose veins. Then the light changed to yellow and the rebuilding could be seen. Her torso was being rebuilt. New tan skin, a new belly button, new breasts and fingernails. Her elbows were covered with smooth tight skin. Her legs became smooth and supple and her feet, dainty. Her body became a creation even God wouldn’t question the perfection of.

When the light faded – the man, still looking away, closed the box and returned it to the counter. He made it a point not to look at his clients while they were still naked following their transformation. He felt it preserved a sense of professionalism. “You may open your eyes now.” He told her.

Steph slowly opened her eyes and looked down. She saw the svelte legs and newborn torso and nearly burst with joy. “Oh, I feel wonderful!” She ran her hands across her smooth belly and down the sides of her legs. “Wonderful!”

“Glad to be of service.” Said the man with eyes still averted. “There is a robe hanging just to your right. If you’d kindly put it on, we can complete our business.”

Giggling, she grabbed the white terry cloth robe and pulled it easily over her arms and tied it at her waist. Reveling in how much extra rope there was left to dangle. A moment later she said,  “Okay, you can look now”. 

He opened his eyes and turned with an expectant smile that froze in a pensive look. Then he asked her, “You did read the entire contract?”

“Not entirely. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Please read stipulation 13.”

A sense of panic growing in her throat, she looked down at the contract and read out loud. “Stipulation 13: The customer will be wearing no makeup or any other lotion or oil that might act as a sunblock.” Her left hand reached to her cheek and felt the familiar flesh. “Any areas covered with such a product will not experience the effects of the treatment.” She looked up at the man, “but…”

“I will be expecting payment in full. I am sorry Ms. Russell.”
He pulled a mirror from behind the counter. She saw resting awkwardly above her new thin shoulders and shrouded by a beautiful mane of black hair, her face, as it had always been: puffy, pale and round, with jowls hanging down.