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31_days2012-07-06 09:24 am
audentiae.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-07-06 09:24 am
[July 6] [Original] A Study of Self
Title: A Study of Self
Day/Theme: July 6th: unless the cameras love me
Series: Original
Rating: PG
Summary: She is an expert in her imperfections.
She sits in front of the vanity, brush paused halfway to her face, eyes squinted, head tilted, lips pursed.
She is twenty-four, and her forehead wrinkles when she’s surprised. A faint half circle rests under each eye, a product of her long days and the unending hours. Her cheeks are pale, and hallow, with the finest outcropping of laugh lines spreading around her mouth. Her thin lips close over crooked teeth, but they don’t matter (for in her line of work, she doesn’t need to smile much). A single blemish sits politely on the curve of her chin.
Her eyes fall to the array of make-up before her, splashes of color and artificial scents. In these bottles and tubes, blushes and powders: here her true power lies. Here she dons her true self, the self everyone sees. Vanished are the lines, the circles, the spots. Here she is ageless, flawless, unmarked: perfect.
For unless she is perfect, well, then — she is nothing.
Day/Theme: July 6th: unless the cameras love me
Series: Original
Rating: PG
Summary: She is an expert in her imperfections.
She sits in front of the vanity, brush paused halfway to her face, eyes squinted, head tilted, lips pursed.
She is twenty-four, and her forehead wrinkles when she’s surprised. A faint half circle rests under each eye, a product of her long days and the unending hours. Her cheeks are pale, and hallow, with the finest outcropping of laugh lines spreading around her mouth. Her thin lips close over crooked teeth, but they don’t matter (for in her line of work, she doesn’t need to smile much). A single blemish sits politely on the curve of her chin.
Her eyes fall to the array of make-up before her, splashes of color and artificial scents. In these bottles and tubes, blushes and powders: here her true power lies. Here she dons her true self, the self everyone sees. Vanished are the lines, the circles, the spots. Here she is ageless, flawless, unmarked: perfect.
For unless she is perfect, well, then — she is nothing.