The Other World, Part 1: The Boxer

Summer 2019

I stood in front of my bathroom mirror wearing a coal bra and obsidian pants from New York and Company, which still had fresh pleats from the store. They were a little long, but my heeled boots made it less noticeable. The store was out of petite length in my waist size anyway.

I looked at my ivory skin, which appeared bloodless against my bra and pants. I couldn’t wait to put my blouse on, but always held off until my makeup was done. I weighed less than 140 lbs. for most of my life. Now, I clocked in at 200 lbs. It was my Kummerspeck. I only hated having trouble finding clothes that fit well, what the extra weight did to my knees, and how people treated me now.

Rocky, our dachshund/Jack Russell mix, tapped his long, gingerbread nose on my left calf to say hello.

I turned to him. “I am just a good boy, though my story’s seldom told…” I sung, bending down and scratching his ears as I adjusted the lyrics to “The Boxer” for him.

When I stood up straight, Mum’s green eyes shot up to my face in the mirror. Unlike hers, mine were parked above a square jaw and 20-year-old acne scars on both cheeks. The acne was gone now because I took Accutane for six months, risking my liver function and meeting with my dermatologist each month to assure her I didn’t plan to get pregnant. It was silly because I never planned to get pregnant. Paying bills and maintaining my mental health was difficult enough.

I combed my damp red hair, which was still bright from the salon. Then I snatched my tweezers from my clear plastic makeup organizer sitting on my bathroom sink and carefully plucked my chocolate eyebrows. My stylist said it wasn’t worth dying them to match my hair. I dug my fingers into a tub of Cerave cream and spread it over my face, ensuring I didn’t get any under my new acrylic French manicure.

I tore off enough paper towels to cover the front of my sink, then placed my tools one-by-one in the order I’d use them: Nivea lip care, primer, concealer, kabuki brush, foundation, blush with brush, bronzer with brush, eyeshadow, eyeliner, eyebrow pencil, mascara, lipstick, and setting spray.

My husband, Inky, walked by in his robe. “You’re like Dexter with his tools,” he said.

“You’re a tool,” I said, with faux high school level snobbery.

I dabbed liquid concealer on my eye bags and acne scars, then moved the kabuki powder foundation brush in circular motions across my face until every imperfection was covered. A fake smile assisted me when I put on blush. I bronzed and applied eye makeup, then more foundation when my eye makeup didn’t go as planned.

I slid burnt umber lipstick across my lower and upper lip. I closed my eyes and applied makeup setting spray, baptized pretty.

“All lies and jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest,” I sang to my reflection.