Satire | Comic | Women | Love | Dreams
The Makeover
We all have someone, or there’s someone for everyone, or maybe not!
In its wake, the howling wind blew leaves scurrying across the park grounds. It’s just another miserable autumn day. Janet is twenty-eight with the body of a fashion model, attracting the attention of two male joggers as they run through the park. Sadly, Janet’s face does not compliment what’s beneath it; she hears the joggers complimenting her ass as they pass her until one looks across. “Wow! She’s got the body of a Rolls Royce, but it’s being driven by Queen Camilla.”
The friend running alongside laughs at his mate’s cruel joke as they jog away.
Janet had accepted she was not simply a plain girl; she was downright ugly. You see, Janet doesn’t help herself; she has long, red, lank hair. Her eyes are never made up and too close together, so her eyebrows look like they are trying to merge. The girl’s teeth protrude, and she cannot walk to the end of her street that some school lad doesn’t call out, “What’s up doc?” To complete her torment, she has severe acne.
“Don’t worry, Janet, it’ll clear up when you’re out of your teens,” Mum said. Well, it had not cleared up.
Janet, understandably, had never been involved in a long relationship. She’d had boys feel up her breasts and make a grab for her intimate region, but none had been willing to kiss her. Janet’s face was her Alcatraz, from which there was no escape.
“Get cosmetic surgery,” was the advice of Lucy Parker.
If Janet could even afford it, the thought of the surgeons staring down on her hardly filled her with elation. Janet was paranoid.
Even walking into town had become a terrifying ordeal. “Just go out wearing sunglasses,” said one exceptional friend. Since then, Janet resorted to wearing sunglasses regardless of the weather. They gave her the feeling of added security. A view of the world from behind dark lenses.
It had only sometimes been like this. In Janet’s early teens, her breasts blossomed in a month, and as a school gymnast, she kept a lithe, cute figure. She even had the confidence to arrange blind dates, which ended disastrously.
Timothy, a greasy car mechanic, had approached her from behind when she was seated at a bar and thought he’d gone to heaven. That was until Janet turned to face him. Tim bought the drinks, excused himself to pay the gents a visit, and that was the last she saw of him, sprinting down Brighton Road.
Six months later, Brian, a twenty-year-old labourer, was not as discreet, saying, “What the hell? No thank you,” and departed, leaving Janet in tears. Each morning, Janet jogged the same route, wanting time to herself. Six months ago, her mother, believing herself to be caring, entered her daughter for a TV makeover show. Photographs had to be sent so the producers could get the response they were chasing for the advertisers. Janet was accepted for the challenge.
Dry with nervousness, Janet ran into the park, knowing she would leave for London that afternoon. She had been preparing all week to meet famous TV people, and though her natural instincts told her to turn and run, her mother and best friend barred her way. “They will make you beautiful, darling.”
When the day for the recording came around, Janet was reminded about the last time she visited London, coming with the school and visiting Madame Tussauds, and how the boys on the bus home asked the teacher why Janet wasn’t left in the Chamber of Horrors.
The advertisers, ‘Pretty Women Cosmetics’, went to great expense the day before the shoot, buying a new emerald green dress to compliment her eyes and expensive shoes to match. Still, on the day of recording, Janet went through with it devoid of makeup. The producer had insisted. He wanted the TV audience to see Janet in her full glory — horror would have been a more appropriate reaction.
Janet was introduced to gasps from the audience. Some tried to stifle their amusement or horror as Janet walked out into the bright, hot lights to studio applause. Janet, however, could not see faces in the audience; the glare of the lights blurred her vision, but she could imagine what all the whispered banter was about, the pointing and the snide remarks being leveled in the direction.
Introduced by Richard, the famous TV host welcomed Janet into the centre of the studio.
Janet’s mouth became so dry she dreaded having to say anything. The water on the table was tempting, but her hand shook. She was sure to drop the glass. The camera then focused on Janet.
The audience again tittered. “I want you to welcome Janet Finnegan,” Richard said and turned to look back at her. “Janet is a twenty-eight-year-old charity worker from Cleveland, Tell me, Janet, what kind of charity work do you do?”
Janet opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She swallowed, tried to moisten her mouth, and saw the stage manager frantically waving his hands behind the camera.
“Ch… ch… children’s charity mostly.”
“Excellent, and are you looking forward to your makeover?”
“Y…y…yes,” she stuttered.
Richard turned back to the audience. “What we are going to witness here today, well, it’s nothing less than a miracle. I want you to give another round of applause to Janet for being so brave to join us.
On her own admission, she wishes to see a better side of herself. Isn’t that true of us all, not just Janet,” Richard told the audience, who were cheering.
“But Janet will be her beautiful self when you see what the range of ‘Pretty Women Cosmetics’ can do for you.
To show you this miracle product we have three very good makeup artists who work behind the scenes to show you what we mean. Please welcome, Faye, Kelly, and Sonjia.” The audience erupts to see these white-coated women walk into the studio
The cameras moved across the studio floor, and Janet’s heartbeat was beating so loud she could hear it as perspiration ran down her face. She looked into the faceless crowd, sure they were laughing at her. She remembered what her mother had told her: you will have the last laugh; you wait and see.
Janet did not recognize the girl staring back from the mirror three hours later. She was beautiful! Her hair had been conditioned and tied in a bun. Her eyebrows were plucked and refined using an ink tattoo, and now, with the right makeup, her acne was barely visible.
A subtle red lipstick had been expertly applied, taking the attention off her teeth, which did not look at all bad, and mascara was faintly added in such a way as to enhance her eyes and compliment her emerald green dress. Janet decided she would never rewash her face. The transformation was astounding. The butterfly had finally escaped the cocoon. The caterpillar was no more.
Janet no longer felt nervous when the applause and catcalls came from the audience. She fought back tears, not wanting to smudge the mascara. Finally, Janet turned to face her mother and Nina, both crying. Janet met the audience. They were not laughing now, were they?
At the show’s end, Janet was allowed to keep everything: dress, shoes, and all makeup. Janet was sat at the dressing table mirror, staring at the stranger. Beneath, she was the same person, but the change was dramatic. Even Nina finds it hard to believe this is the same person she set out to London with early this morning.
“Come on, Janet; let’s go downstairs for a drink.”
“I don’t know, Nina.”
“Rubbish girl,” interrupted her mother, “You two go and enjoy yourself.” The bar was dimly lit. “Two vodka and oranges, please,” ordered Nina. It was still early evening and yet devoid of custom, apart from a man drinking a brandy alone.
He was dressed in a tuxedo and watched with interest as the two girls glided across the BBC’s green room bar to sit at a corner table. Janet glanced at the dark-haired man, looking at her with a grin.
Janet gave another glimpse, and the handsome chap winked at her. She felt a pleasant sensation when she sipped her vodka.
“That bloke over there, he fancy’s you, Jan,” Nina said. “Doesn’t he look familiar to you?”
“No, if anything he’s mocking me.”
“I don’t think so, Janet. He’s coming over.”
The man pulled up a stool and ignored Nina, paying attention to Janet. “Good evening, I hope you don’t mind if I join you. You looked so lonely sitting here by yourselves. Are you from around here?”
“No, we’re from the North,” butt in Nina.
The dashing fellow directed his attentive eyes only to Janet. “I was wondering. Are you a model?”
Janet blushed and bowed her head. “No, I’m a…”
“She’s an actress,” interrupted Nina.
“An actress, really?” asked the guy. “I’m in that business. Will I have seen you in anything?”
“No, she only has minor roles now, but she’s been inundated with offers.” Janet’s eyes met the man’s eyes, and they were drawn together like magnets.
“I’m Tom,” he said, introducing himself.
“Janet,” she responded, and they shook hands.
“I might be able to help you, Janet. In fact, the reason I am here is to talk about my latest movie,” he told her.
After an hour, Nina decided she might as well not be there. Janet and Tom talked late into the night. Nina made her excuse and left them, giving Janet a wink and a thumbs-up.
Shortly after midnight, Tom returned from doing his thing on the TV, where Janet had agreed to wait for him. Tom observes the barman checking his watch.
“I think the barmen wants to go to bed, Janet.”
“Really?” she slurred, staring into his eyes. “Perhaps you do, too?” She blurted out.
The alcohol had taken over. Janet had convinced herself she was not drunk, but she would never propose such a thing usually, not the old Janet. Not that she ever got a chance. She was love-struck by this handsome Adonis. ‘He fancies me, he fancies me,’ she keeps saying in her mind.
Tom took her hand and led her out of the studios and into a waiting car. When the vehicle arrives at a well-known hotel in Mayfair, Tom escorted her through the elegant lobby, and as soon as they entered the room, they came together, their lips meeting. Janet was trying to conceal her buck teeth.
She was undressed slowly, and Tom took in the beauty of her near-perfect body, sucking on her erect nipples, and together they fell onto the bed. Janet moaned as she felt herself building up toward an orgasm. Janet was a virgin and had often wondered if she would die that way, never having savored a man’s body.
Janet admired the muscles of Tom’s torso, not daring to look below his waist at the welcome offering she was aching to receive. He took her by the hand and led her to the shower.
She felt his penis rigid against her stomach. She spread her legs, waiting for the pleasure to infiltrate her body as the warm water gushed over them.
Tom didn’t want to arise from her secrecy, but finally, his lips found her nipples, where he lingered before bringing his face up to kiss her soaking face.
“Harry… Harry, wake up… wake up, honey. I just had a nightmare. I dreamt I was ugly, and I was making love in the shower with Tom Cruise.
“Couldn’t be that ugly then. Did you finish him?”
“No, he was about to look at my face… I woke up crying hysterically. You didn’t hear me?”
“No, love. You’re probably frustrated. Personally, I don’t fancy him at all. Go back to sleep, honey, it’s jet lag.”
Adrienne Beaumont | Autistic Widower (“AJ”) | Brett Jenae Tomlin | The Sturg | Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles | Trisha Faye | Karen Schwartz | NancyO | Katie Michaelson | Bernie Pullen | Michelle Jimerson Morris | Amy Frances | Julia A. Keirns | Pamela Oglesby | | Tina | Pat Romito LaPointe | Ruby Noir | K. Joseph | Brandon Ellrich | Misty Rae | Karen Hoffman | Deb Palmer | Susie Winfield | Vincent Pisano Paari | Marlene Samuels | Ray Day | Randy Pulley | Michael Rhodes | Lu Skerdoo | Pluto Wolnosci | Paula Shablo | Bruce Coulter | Ellen Baker | Kelley Murphy | Leigh-Anne Dennison | Jennifer Marla Pike | Carmen Ballesteros | Marlana, MSW| Patricia Timmermans | Keeley Schroder |Jan Sebastian | James Michael Wilkinson | Whye Waite | John Hansen | Trudy Van Buskirk
(If you dislike being tagged for various reasons, no offense will be taken, please let me know, I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen on my posts again.)
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