Look at You

You look in the mirror and see a calm face, a jaw without tension, and the kind of shoulders that have a masseuse tutting in disappointment as there’s really no challenge there. Your eyes are clear. They are kind, just like everyone says. 

Your knees–they are good knees, aren’t they? Kind of rounded and smooth, not at all knobbly, they reach up to blemish-free thighs and down to shapely calves. Your feet carry you day in and day out but you’d never know.

You tilt your head and appraise your belly, chest, clavicle which is almost a musical word. You run a finger along your collarbone and sigh at just how perfect it is. Your lips part into a smile that is symmetrical and sweet. 

Your best brush sits on the shelf and you pick it up. It’s the one with the boar bristles that make your hair so shiny, and comes with its own little hook for pulling the hairs and fluff out. It’s a high maintenance brush, but you’re worth it. 

The brushing starts at the top. Centre parting. Bristles against scalp. You apply pressure, slow and steady, and start to pull downwards with the wooden handle. The shiny hair detaches painlessly from scalp in sections, smooth and soft as it falls from brush to floor. 

There are ridges covering your head as you continue to brush the hairless flesh. Each time you raise your hand you increase the pressure and drag across the perfect curves of your skull. The skin curls off and away in thin strips. 

The shoulder blades and back are a challenge, but your arms are long and lithe with impressive reach. As you relax out of the stretch you peel away whole sections of perfectly proportioned hips. The sudden weightlessness you feel is quite pleasing. 

There are only a few parts left to do now–legs, and then feet. You use the dainty tool to pick the tissue from the bristles, using the edge of a nail to scrape off the occasional clot. The tiny bones of your toes are the last to be revealed, and you place the brush back on its shelf. 

Just look at you.

---

This piece was first published in Offerings: New Stories from Emerging Writers on the Comma Press short story course with Gaynor Jones January - May 2024.