Beauty Standards

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The land of the setting sun gave me new ways to view beauty. I traveled the world trying to find that one perfect way to fix oneself to fit the standard to be a model. I wanted when my trip began to be the next Mona Lisa. She is still hundreds of years after being put to canvas considered to be one of the most beautiful women in history. I wanted that acclaim.

I found beauty secrets everywhere I went. I could better myself with makeup, and clothing….creams and lotions….workouts and feasts. All of that was easy to find. I could pamper myself until I glowed…All models know those secrets. I wanted something more. I took the secret mud facials, and all of the other approved beauty treatments. I even took a few forbidden ones.

It wasn’t until a hike up a mountain in Japan that I learned where I had been wrong. I barely survived that trip you see. I ran into a creature they called the slit faced woman. And afterwards the scars that I had been left with nearly broke me. How could I be a masterpiece when I was slit from ear to ear? It left me deep in my own mind for a time. I studied the image of Mona Lisa. I studied the mirror. Despair consumed me night and day. I was told that I had been lucky to survive the encounter. Most who encounter her end up with their throat cut.

In my research on how to fix this…and believe me plastic surgery was considered…I came across an interesting theory. There are some that think Mona Lisa was a self-portrait of Master Da Vinci. It got me to thinking. What if this was a message from God? I sat on this idea for a long time, unsure if I could be able to carry it through. Then finally, I was certain.

Who else but me could expose the flaw in the beauty standard? I am still gorgeous just have a difference that should not change how I am seen. Still, I have started wearing the veil to avoid the looks of pity that have fallen upon me since I have returned home. I pretend I do not hear the whispers of how sad it is that I was disfigured so. All of them whispering…

I think maybe it is time for me to become the painter instead of the model. I can create other beauties…and show the world what the standard truly should be. I just need to prepare. After all I needed to show the model how to smile….

In setting up my studio I found my standards firmer than they had ever been for makeup or clothing. I needed privacy, I wanted natural lighting and a lot of space to work. I wanted access to the best tools…my models deserved that much. I had a plan for what I was going to create. I merely needed the right model…

I believe that was the hardest part. Choosing who to gift the masterpiece status to was a heavy burden. I will admit that I had a gender bias, I was doing a self-portrait to some extent after all. It had to be either female or a feminine male. I myself am a relatively tall woman. I wanted someone at least eye level to myself as that would make it easier to give them the status I was going to gift.

Social standards were not anywhere as strict as my own. They could not be too thin or misshapen. I wanted perfect. Do you have any idea how rare perfect is? I was not worried about skin color or stuff that makeup could fix. I was unwilling to leave the model with the ability to tell anyone who I was… that was too risky for me. I wanted perfection but I was not stupid enough to get caught either.

I was aware that preparation might take longer than the actual painting. I didn’t mind that. Mercy had me also thinking about finding someone who would not be missed. Loneliness is an awful thing that I would save the model from if I could. I was not a monster after all.

I was still unsure if I was going to be doing this once or more. That inner voice kept saying that it was going to be so much fun and I should plan on many models… but I hesitated. Didn’t the Bible say Do Not Kill? Yet, if it was a divine mandate then it would be okay, right?

Yeah, I have to do what God set forth for me. Who am I to argue with his plan? I just had to wait for the perfect model to come to me. God provides. Isn’t that what they say?

She was mouse incarnate, at least that was my first impression. Brown hair, that could be pretty with care, just haphazardly pulled into a low ponytail. A face that though it was clean seemed to be covered in small blackheads and huge pores. All of the minor flaws that could easily be fixed by the tricks I knew so intimately. She was my equal in height and weight though it looked like she was heavier because of fashion choices. She was often with the group that cleaned my house. Her skin was naturally more bronze than my own, but I saw it as a step I would not need to do for perfect.

A small bit of research and I discovered that my mouse had no family and very few friends, with no one really close. Again, I truly felt God’s plan. Faith is so very powerful. I knew God wanted my little mouse to be as beautiful as she could be. The only thing left was to decide where to display her. I had to consider this for if I left her in the wrong place the effect would be ruined.

Then I remembered the first makeup company that turned me away after I had gotten my scars. I had been one of their top models for years. I still had the hard copy of the door key, even though they went digital locks last year. The lock with the non-digital lock was the only one that they had not yet put cameras on. The embarrassment the scandal would cause them was perfect.

Taking her to the studio was easier than I expected. I got her restrained and started my work. First the lobotomy. That would prevent the memory. Then the tongue had to go…I made sure to sear it to keep her from bleeding to death. Next I did the makeup and costume. The last thing, The final beauty touch…was the slit from ear to ear like I had. Sure, if the cops were smart they would look at me first…but I had created an Iron clad alibi with a video. My lawyer would swear he was with me the whole time. I drugged him so he was asleep and would not know any better. And my security cameras would show only him leaving the house and when.

I took slave tunnels under my house that no one knows about to get to the place I needed to be.. Once I displayed my art so perfectly…I took a picture for me. God must be smiling down on me. I think I might do this again sometime.