I fish around the bin to find the box the toothpaste came in. I need to see what a confident smile looks like. I find it and place it on the shelf in front of the mirror and look closer. I pull my mouth into a facsimile of the disembodied teeth on the box. Then flick my eyes to the mirror. It could be right, but I’m not sure. I get my shaving mirror (R35 from Clicks) and put it in front of the usual mirror above by washbasin. Turning it over to the magnifying side, I then move the box over so it sits next to my now enormous reflected smile. Confidence indeed. I pull out the stack of magazines from next to the toilet. I need to know more, practice more.
I turn the pages in a Men’s Health until I find a full-page ad for cologne. On it a man with the most confident smile I have ever seen sits on a leather couch next to a beautiful woman. The woman is wearing negligee and has her legs on the man’s lap. Her face is cut off though, so I am unable to tell if she has a confident smile. I think she does. Its not that I’m interested in though, it’s the man’s eyes. The tagline on the ad promises that the cologne brings out the man in you. I need to know what masculine eyes look like. I tear them out carefully. Now he gazes at me with blank spaces filled with the text from the next page. Eyes filled with nouns and verbs. Conjugated in a masculine way. I stick the eyes on the shaving mirror. Then manoeuvre myself so that mine are directly underneath it. Most definitely not masculine. I move my head up so that the eyes cover mine in the reflection. Much better. I wonder what I would look like with these eyes and the confident teeth.
Half an hour later, and I have scoured the magazines for all the features which are better than my own. Added to the manly eyes and confident teeth are a strong nose from another cologne ad (to own my destiny), a square chin from an ad for rejuvenating facial mosturiser (with added Boswellox©), and the ruggedly stubbled chin from an ad for erectile dysfunction medication (guaranteed 40 hours of freedom). I finally feel like I look like myself. The bathroom is covered with ripped magazines. Feature pieces on genetic disease and sexual tips seep through ripped masculine faces and curiously truncated women in a pleasing palimpsest. Visceral text fills in the gaps again and again.
I stare at this collage of myself for what seems like ages. Then I stop. Something has caught my eye. On the reverse of my newly constructed self, I can see the normal, me. Unowned destiny, no Boswellox©, and unconfident. My face is reflected from the bathroom mirror onto the back of the shaving mirror, and by doing so, hundreds of unconfident faces are lined up in a bizarre procession until they blink out at a vanishing point. This worries me. I have to do something.
Quickly, I run through to my study and gather the supplies that I need to make sure that I don’t ever have to see this again. I grab some paper, glue and scissors and return to the bathroom. I go through the magazines again. I need new features, even more masculine, confident and destiny-owning features. I cut them out carefully this time. Neatly incising each from the page, not stopping to see what lies beneath. I assemble these on a piece of paper and start to make myself a mask. Its more like me than I am. With all of the features in glued in place I cut it out, pierce some holes in the eyes, and see how it fits. It is perfect. Frantic now, I search for a way to keep it on my face. I try sticky tape and string, and neither give the effect I want. Eventually I get out my stapler and use that, pressing it against my head and holding my breath as I fix the mask in place. It hurts, but I don’t really mind.
I’m in a shopping centre. I don’t know how I got here, but I assume I must’ve driven myself. I have a basket filled with moisturisers, colognes and toothpaste. Its weight makes me feel good. A small child stares at me as I walk past. Its liquid eyes are fixed upon my face, and I wonder what I would find behind them if I cut them out. Cartoons probably. Its mother turns to me and smiles nervously. Quickly she steers the child away from me. Its probably because she’s attracted to me and doesn’t want the child to know. As she leaves I make sure she sees all of my confident smile.
(The author asserts copyright on this piece, written August 2008)
The Exquisite Corpse by Chris Reid is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 South Africa License.
5 comments:
I think this story paints a very sad but true image of how we as people are manipulated into thinking that beauty comes from a box, or a tube. Media creates the feeling of inadequacy as we are constantly faced with images of perceived beauty and feel the need to live up to these “created expectations.” This story explains how people become obsessed with outer beauty, that which is portrayed through magazines. I feel the story is very apparent and relevant regarding today’s media trends; it speaks truth and reality, in a sad yet honest manner.
firstly I just want to say that this is an incredible story, discussing the problem of how we form our identity based on what society tells us to be, framed by the media informing what is socially acceptable. I do think it is important to realise, as i think nietzsche points out, that ultimately we are all mask wearers (feel like such a pseudo-intellectual dropping philosophy names, varsity has taught me to reference everything though). Perhaps we should just be wary of what we choose to make up our mask...
I agree with Katy... this is very true and sad as we all at one time or another buy into the false promises products offer us... Advertising seems to make something is simple as toothpaste look like it is going to change our life! It is very sad... as there are some people out there who really believe their life is going to get better becos of a product they use... and all they are left with are empty promises.. "Because They're Worth It"
At the start of my reading I found it personal, I could see myself brushing my teeth and smiling at the catch phrases. As I read on I became amused at the obvious absurdity of what the character does to himself. But I found the absurdity is emphasizing a sickening truth about the way brands make us see ourselves. The mask at the end made me want to laugh and vomit at the same time. And then the child with cartoons behind its face. Is this a good or a bad thing? Cartoon is associated with innocence and childhood, but then take a look at the cartoons we watch now.
I hope this helps, my academia is a little lost these days. love the story.
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