what I wanted.

Picasso, Girl before a Mirror, 1932,Oil on canvas


what I wanted.
(3-22-10)

“Man is the only creature that refuses to be what he is.” Albert Camus.

This isn’t what I wanted. The numbness is fading away and the tiniest of feeling tingles up both my arms. If you can call them arms still. Stacks of flesh upon tiny pillows of rounded nubs. Honestly I can’t possibly tell you what part that is. The same thought runs through my mind over and over again. It’s like those telemarketing ads on TV drilling the value into my subconscious at a mind blowing rate. On fast forward and repeat. What am I supposed to do with this? IT’S USELESS. The newly sculpted limb lifts and falls with an awkwardness that’s slowly become all too real. My eyes are shifting to the things up, down and around me. A whole new world. Not exactly what you might call it. The world is the same bland creature filled with ennui and despair. Walls remain stark white. Curtains, trims and bedding all the same pallid hue. There’s not enough to keep my vision focused. No distraction. Unable to avoid the head to toe perversion that lies before me.

Office consultation. Small room filled with shelves of books, a handful of degrees on the wall and an interesting collection of Cubism amidst several surrealist portraits. Reconstructive surgery. Desiring the profile of a young Grecian goddess brought me in. New chin begat new jawline. By the time the salesman was through peddling his wares I had a prepared myself for a dozen elective surgeries. On paper the genius made it sound so divine. Smiling cherubs were to descend from the heavens when I smiled. He made it so easy to say ‘Yes’ to it all. Especially the fine print. The little dotted line was a marked with a big red ‘x’ next to a small yellow flag. Reminds me of the dot dot dot that went down my front across my thighs and around to my butt. Divisions created by the hands of the skilled surgeon. Promises of enhanced proportions. Accommodating the needs of beauty. Black lines trailing upwards, downwards, and askew. Tracing along the bridge of my nose and circling my eyes. “Are you ok?” asks the surgeon snapping me back to the lost moment. “Just sign and we’ll take care of the rest.”

What did I want? Not this. Not like this at all. Give me fair skin. Give me decent teeth. Give me lifted cheekbones. Give me a tucked chin. Give me fuller lips. Instead I’m awaking to the furthest thing from what I’d wanted. Square jawline. Larger and misshapen. Mirror can’t possibly hold two faces; in my case room for one is no longer enough. Eyes no longer stand in line. Right is oversized, hangs over and droops over into the space missing a cheekbone. Left sits where my forehead once met my eyebrows. Smaller. Blinking doesn’t open up the socket any further. Slit with cat-like qualities reminds me that my nose no longer has a defined home. Lips are smaller and longer than any creature on earth. Entire face has been shifted to the side 90 degrees. Bruising and swelling might explain the puffiness or bulges that trail down to my neck. A thin strip of skin folds over and over giving way to a hump lodged in my left shoulder. Soft. Fleshy. Strategically placed implants to create an overall unique appearance. Body has the shape of a linebacker that’s been mashed up and what’s left over has been crammed into a ballerina. Legs bulge at capacity. Flesh stretched over additional bumpy pockets of tissue. Hands can’t even cover the face in horror.

“How’s the patient? I can see you’ve already peeked and ruined some of the surprise. Tsk-tsk.” I want to rip his face off and replace it as my own. I want to know what he wanted and why he did this. I want to tell him to fix this. I want my old face back. I want to have the body of a swimsuit model. “But this is so much better!” This isn’t what I wanted. I wanted to be beautiful. Give me anything but this.



I'm inspired. Refreshed. And... hungry. I know that's lovely. Cheers. This is something from a few months ago and it's in a close tangent to that last idea. 'Be what you are' is some of the best advice that anyone can ever give you. Does a repost mean you get nothing new? Like I said... INSPIRED. Actually going to push through to finish tonight. Something else will be up later. Enjoy. M.