The Prettiest Coat Hanger
The air stung my hands as I opened mailbox. My body was practically convulsing with the cold, but that was a good sign. It meant I was keeping the winter weight off.
On with the morning routine: grab the mail, separate the envelopes, chuck the catalogs into the recycling bin, back into the house. Hat goes in coat pocket, coat goes on hanger, snap top snap, coat goes in facing front door. Fill kettle, place on stove, open envelopes with giraffe-topped letter opener, separate Christmas cards into “picture” and “no picture” piles, discard envelopes. Pour tea, sprinkle splenda, remove tea bag after one minute and add a splash of skim milk. One table spoon of fat-free cottage cheese (also sprinkled with splenda), half a grapefruit and two sodium-free saltines. Then sip tea and look through cards until gym time.
I go through the ones with no pictures first. Pretty generic stuff: cheekbone enhancements, jawline therapy, kids old enough for their first cosmetic reconstructions, Jenny Craig Platinum Coat-Hanger diet seems to be it for the women this year, the He-Man Skeletor for the men.
The pictures are always more fun. The Jacobson’s at a the state carnival in Sumo-wrestling costumes. Way to try to cover it up, fatties. The Beckers tried to make-up their way out of cheekbone enhancements. The rouge doesn’t match with the lighting. Creepy. The Morans. They outdo themselves every year. But this year. Well, they’re screwed for the next ten years at least. All five of them are in their coat closet, bodies in profile, heads turned toward the camera at just the right angle to highlight their Apache cheekbones. Their facial structure contrasts their coloring: dark eyelashes, auburn eyebrows and blond hair, except the youngest girl who is more of a strawberry blonde. What cinches it is that there are maybe twelve coats in the closet and it’s impossible to tell which ones they’re wearing and which ones are on hangers! Gorgeous!
I grabbed my goat back out of the closet, dropping the hat on the floor. Upstairs checking myself in the full-length bathroom mirror I turned to different angles. No matter the angle, you could still see a slight rump. I’d just have to up my cardio. But as I checked the light on my cheekbones inspiration hit. I could beat the Morans.
Lipliner. I expanded my lips up to my nose and farther to the sides of my face. Fuller, bigger top lip, maybe less so on the bottom. My nose was already pronounced and narrow. I just needed to get rid of the nostrils and round it off a bit.
Speed dial #3, Dr. Zizmor. He could do it. By the time next Christmas card season rolled around, I would be the best looking coat-hanger around.
