It was only when I was stark bollock naked with my wrists tethered to a giant hook that I began to have doubts.
Not that there was any going back. There wasn’t time. Someone gave the go-ahead and I was raised into the air, feet flailing wildly, arms aching, fear setting in. I swayed side to side and back and forth as the crane slid me to the left and dangled me over the top of the vat of liquid skin.
“Hold your breath!” came the call, and I did. I held it for dear life.
The crane buzzed and whirred and I was on the way down again. The liquid skin looked thick and glossy and unctuous and it soothed me a little, reminded me what I was doing.
In went my toes. It was warm. My feet followed. It tickled. Then my legs, hips, torso, shoulders, neck, head… don’t breathe, I told myself, don’t breathe, don’t breathe.
It felt like I was being smothered in latex.
My arms went in and then my hands went in and all of a sudden I was going up again and feeling thankful for the ability to breathe.
The liquid skin began to set as soon as it hit the air. Incredible. What an incredible invention, I thought. And it was so easy. Not cheap, mind, but beauty doesn’t come cheap these days, does it?
They set me on the ground and I stood still as a statue as they unhooked me and checked the quality of their work. Someone wheeled out a full-length mirror and I prepared myself to see my beautiful new body.
I was a waxwork model. Sure, the lines and crevices in my face were filled. Yes, my body was smooth and void of the lumps and bumps I’d spent years despising. Yeah, my skin was perfectly unblemished across every inch. But I didn’t look human. I was an android or a blow-up doll or an alien or a man dipped in the drippings of a candle.
“What do you think?” said the technician. “Perfect, huh?”
“Yeah. Too perfect.”
I write one new story each week inspired by a random song from my Spotify library. This week it was ‘High On Liquid Skin’ by Gomez who are one of my favourite bands ever, but in all honesty this is one of their weaker tracks. For the ultimate Gomez experience, try their debut album, Bring It On, on a Saturday night with the company of too many cheap beers.Follow Ellie Scott on WordPress.com