She stepped out of the shower and, still dripping, critically examined her reflection in the full-length mirror facing her. It was not a pleasant sight; wrinkles, sagging breasts, flabby buttocks, veiny legs, flaking nail polish. It was going to take a lot of work to make this presentable. Time to get out the magic tools.
First step was the underwear. The ‘Wonderbra for your bum’ went on first. She scooped her buttcheeks into the seat of the panties and pulled the top up and over her pasty paunch. The control panels built into the fabric held her flab back as efficiently as Davos stormtroopers facing down protesting hippies.
The bra was next. She leant over to let her breasts fall into the cups, then stood up quickly and fastened the clasp behind her. She now had a cleavage again, and her embonpoint was at least five inches higher. Once she put clothes on top, it would look like two half melons under a tea towel instead of two half-emptied bags of saline they would resemble without the bra.
Next came the tights. These were black, sheer and shiny: black because it’s slimming; sheer because it hints of bare flesh (fishnets are even better for this if a very strong impression needs to be made on somebody); and shiny, because it would call attention to the legs without being too obvious about it. These tights also had a control top, in case any love handles fell out of the Wonderpanties.
Next came deodorant, to help maintain the illusion that “horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies glow”.
Then today’s dress went on top. It was one of those panel dresses, with a white panel in front and the sides in black. This created the illusion that the wearer’s body was only as wide as the white panel, and as naturally sculpted as the dress. The black panels also made the wearer look narrower if viewed from the side. The sleeves were half-length, covering up her dodgy upper arms while leaving the flattering lower arm exposed. It also had a v-neck, which elongated the neck and provided a good hint of the bra-created cleavage without making her look like a Hustler waitress.
Then it was makeup time. She used highlighter first to add contour to her nose, cheekbones and around the eyes. Then foundation to cover up all the wrinkles, blemishes, uneven skin tones and spots. Some extra concealer under the eyes to hide how she was burning the candle at both ends. Two shades of eyeshadow, a darker one along the bone of the eyesocket to make the eyes stand out, and a lighter shade from the inner corners out to soften the look for daytime. She added fake eyelashes to add a little bit more oomph to her delicately fluttering eyelids. Some blusher on the cheekbones to add colour back into her face, and some bronzer along the nose, forehead and chin, finished her up before she did her lips.
But first, she washed her teeth and gargled some mouthwash. It would keep her breath fresh during the day, but she could still taste the bottle of shiraz she demolished last night in front of the flatscreen TV.
Once the teeth were washed, she could tackle her lips. A lip liner around the outside added some extra volume to the thin specimens nature had blessed her with. It also covered up the fine lines around the edge of her mouth. She filled the outline of the liner with her favourite rosy lipstick that also contained moisturizer. Dry, cracked lips added years to a mouth.
Then it was time for her hair. What was left of her own hair was just short, wiry tufts of greying, thin hair but she had invested in some wigs after seeing what was available for chemo patients these days. This way, she could have a perfectly styled, luxurious head of hair every day. And if it was a short style, it wouldn’t matter if it was the same style all the time.
She put on a headband to keep her own hair back, then lifted the wig onto the crown of her head. A few minor adjustments around the ears and forehead, a bit of primping up of the curls and it was looking gorgeous.
Finally, she got her high heels out. They give her extra stature, but also immediately toned her legs and tilted her butt and breasts to the ‘right’ angle. Now her silhouette had the same outline as a Barbie doll, instead of a sturdy Appalachian peasant woman.
With a squirt of the essence of apple blossoms on the backs of her wrists and behind the ears (where the blood ran close to the surface of the skin, warming it and hence diffusing the scent better), the sorceress was ready to tackle the day. Wrinkles and flab had been banished to leave a sophisticated, attractive businesswoman in their place. Magic, eh?