Clearance

Clearance

          Jennifer snuck a peek at herself in the full length mirror as she passed the cosmetics counter. She smiled at the image, the effect. Shopping made her happy and she held four colorful bags in each hand. She wore her lime green tank top with matching floral skirt, a wrap belt of bright orange with costume jewelry to match. She loved the way the bags she carried matched her outfit. She turned to sneak a peek at her ass, pleased to find the skirt flattered her butt, completely camouflaging any of that stubborn cellulite the water aerobics class just couldn’t dislodge. She moved in closer to inspect her lip line and to scrap away the icky clumps of mascara from the corners of her eyes. She used the long, porcelain nail of her pinkie finger to gently remove the clump without smearing it worse. Her head cocked to one side, her focus moved from her eye to the mass of color swirling behind her. She focused. That woman is wearing the same outfit as her. She is horrified. Mortified. What should she do? She froze. That woman is wearing her belt. Another her shoes. What is going on here?

          She dropped her bags. Still looking in the mirror, she felt dizzy. “ecnaraelC” and “elaS” signs caught her eye. All these women. All these women look just like me. She dared not turn around. She felt undifferentiated. She felt as though she had somehow been indoctrinated into some horrible club, but she didn’t know any of these women. But she did know them. She was them. “Do you have this in an 18?” “Do you have any sandals that match this belt?” “Madam, this cream is guaranteed to remove those unsightly crows feet in just minutes.” Nausea crept over her. Her earrings pinched her ears. She pulled them off and let them fall to the floor. The bright orange of her wrap hurt her eyes. She let it fall. She kicked off her tight shoes and ripped off her tank top. Her skirt fell to the floor. Her bright pink lace bra and matching panties suddenly felt as though they were burning her skin. She let them drop to the floor as she turned and ran to the fountain near the front door. She jumped into the cold water, desperately trying to wash away the thick make up and cologne. She scrubbed her face under the water. She wanted it all off. She laid back and rinsed the product from her long red hair.

          She opened her eyes to the crowd which had gathered to witness this revelation. This rebirth. This baptism. She stood covering her breasts with one hand and her pubic area with the other. One young man stepped forward and offered her his hand. “You look just like Venus emerging from the foam.” She smiled and took his hand.