Artifice


It all started when she had her tooth capped. There was nothing actually wrong with it, but sometimes Natasha thought nature could have been kinder. The truth was she was a beautiful and elegant young woman, but all her other girlfriends in Chelsea had begun, by slow and subtle degrees to improve and rejuvenate their well tended appearances. No one else noticed the tooth. But she did. And when it was done her friends began to notice how she smiled more, in fact was almost always smiling, even through young Joshua’s tantrums. It had been, oh...a millimetre perhaps, from perfect symmetry, but she felt she was missing out on something - pitied even, though secretly her friends envied her casual naturalness.

There had been a struggle of course. She was pulled between two equally powerful but opposing forces. At one end of the rope was Glamour, appealing most unfairly, she thought to her soft mammalian desires and animal yearnings. A vicious, pink bundle of appetites was tugging at her. Resisting, at the other end, was a pious, white-blue angel.
    “I’ll do what I like,” said Pink Natasha. “You can’t make me!” But the angel just smiled.

But sooner or later, the tension had to give. And just when White Natasha thought victory secure and dropped her guard, Pink Natasha seized her moment and wrested her body into her warm, welcoming and pandering embrace.

She looked in the mirror and licked her new tooth with the tip of her pretty and inviting pink, tongue and traced its outline; a warrior, testing the edge of a freshly sharpened blade. And so, she had unwittingly taken the first step down a path to whose demands she was effectively blind.

After a while, she began to examine herself more closely in the mirror, and where, before she had not even thought to criticise, she began to look for flaws. Her breasts perhaps, did not seem to have the constant globe-like pertness of her friends. They hung, she felt, and soon at smart, celebrity-seeking parties, she began to feel self conscious and would wear a flimsy white linen shirt. It was the barest suggestion of cover, that she hoped would pass unnoticed. Her teen-bodied girlfriends, with their tiny, brown waists aggressed the guests with their erect and cork like nipples that looked more like rubber bungs from chemistry labs, always pert - inviting appreciative tweaks.

Her aunt, a former model and society beauty of perpetual early middle age, arrived one day at the smart modern house Natasha’s husband had built for her as an anniversary present. Natasha had been up all night with a sick daughter and coupled with a raging hangover, she felt rough. The doorbell went again, this time more insistently. Oh, for fuck’s sake! She muttered to herself as she flung on a robe and opened the door. There was Allegra her aunt, beaming in her golden, spring time way.
    “Darling, you look a little...strained...” Allegra said as she swept in.
    “Jemima was sick last night.” Natasha replied, somewhat irritated by the unannounced guest.
    “Children can be so terribly wearing.” Her aunt replied as she settled herself elegantly on the edge of a chair.

Hmmn, that’s all very well for you to say, thought Natasha. Especially considering you’ve never had any of your own, reflecting that all aunts were the same; sooner or later out pops the cloven hoof.
    “Poor darling, you need a holiday.” said Allegra, turning her face to catch the golden sunlight streaming through the huge windows. And then Natasha caught sight of herself in the mirror opposite. She stood shocked for a moment.
    “Is there anything wrong sweetheart?”
    “No, no.” Natasha replied, scrutinising her aunt’s face.

There was no denying it, Allegra who must have been at least thirty years her senior looked younger than she did. Smooth, wrinkle free and impassive. She looked like Nefertiti, high cheekbones and mysterious eyes. She was somehow different and not different, all at the same time. Hmmn, she thought. You’ve had a facelift.
    “Ha ha ha.” Allegra swept her hands through her expensive hair. “I see you’ve noticed.”
    “Noticed what?” Natasha affected innocence, though she knew full bloody well what was coming.
    “I’ve had a few...treatments of an unspecified nature.” She laughed again and Natasha wanted to strangle her there and then.

And so, overhearing a the boasts of a newly-young girlfriend she got the name of the most discreet, most subtle, celebrity enhancing plastic surgeon. An appointment was made and the following week she set off for Harley street under pretext of going to see the doctor. Well, she was going to see a doctor and had always held that if you are going to lie, you should stick as closely to the truth as possible.

A few injections later and she arrived home smooth and impassive like her aunt. Tucked away in her bag was a glossy brochure that demonstrated all the possible permutations of facial reupholstery. That night she went to meet her gay friend Charlie. Charlie was one of those boys who seemed like a normal laddish bloke until he’d had a few glasses of chardonnay inside him when the girl inside would take over and they would happily shriek and giggle the evening away until, unsteady on their feet they’d wobble home. She arrived at Charlie’s Knightsbridge flat. As she walked through the door she heard the familiar pop of a cork and Charlie appeared with two glasses of spuming froth in champagne tulips.
    “Darling!” He began then stopped. “Darling you look very...have you had your hair done?”
    “No.” she grinned
    “You look different. Very well rested.” He handed her the tulip.
    “Yes, yes I feel it.”
    “Hmmn. You’ve got hold of that new cream Eau d’eau, haven’t you, oh I’ve so wanted to get some, I hear the waiting list at Harvey Nichols is months....”
    “No....no, I’ve had some botox and collagen injections.”
    “Oh,” He said sitting down anxiously. “Be careful.”
    “I don’t know what you mean.” Natasha withdrew a little at what she perceived to be Charlie’s jealousy.
    “But darling, you’re beautiful, there’s nothing wrong with you, don’t overdo it. I mean the point is, you are real.”
    “Real?” Was that a put down?
    “Yes real. I mean you look like yourself, not like one of those bizarre friends of yours who all look like rejuvenated mummies. I mean look at Zara, she looks like Ramases II unwrapped but somehow glossy all at the same time.” He shuddered. “What I mean is your beauty is real, unique, from within. Don’t mess it up by going against nature.”

You’re a fine one to talk about going against nature, thought Natasha meanly. She didn’t stay long. All the world was against her, but she would show them.

That night she came home early and sneaked past her husband who was snoring in a dressing gown on the sofa and crept up to her study. There she opened the magazine and gave herself up entirely to the pleasures of plastic surgery.

The next morning she was decided. She told everyone she was going away for a rest cure. Her husband David would look after the children. Anyway, better to see a fresh, young looking, stress free mummy, she thought, than that her children should compare her unfavourably with her friends.

It was a new procedure that minimised the invasive techniques of twentieth century cosmetic surgery. Her jaw was to be tightened, new cheekbones inserted and a little tuck around the eyes. The surgeon assured her that this pioneering new technique was twenty first century perfection. In two days she could go home, hardly any bruising or swelling. No one would ever know. Indeed she had been promised instant results.

After the operation, the surgeon visited her and told her that he was so pleased with the results he wanted to use her as an advertisement. She thought a moment and declined. This must be secret she thought. Would she like to look in the mirror? He asked. No, she demurred, she would wait until she arrived home.

When she opened the door to her house in Chelsea, there were her husband and Charlie, waiting to welcome her back. She walked into the drawing room.
    “Hello boys!” She announced as she dramatically took off her head scarf.
    “Darling!”
    “My God Natasha!” Both her husband and her friend seemed dumbstruck. Evidently the surgery had been more than a success. Her beauty had made them speechless, it seemed.
    “I’m just going to change!” She smiled.
She ran upstairs and looked in the mirror hesitantly. There! An extraordinary, feline face stared back at her. Finally, she sighed happily, she was entirely artificial.