My Surrogate Sister Scene 46

Mother must have spent a good forty minutes doing my face. After tidying up my eyebrows with a pair of tweezers she applied a foundation layer, then gave me a good dusting of powder. She began working on my eyes, which took a while because I couldn’t help but blink and wince as she tried to apply my eyeliner. My eye shadow went on without much trouble, but the application of my mascara caused my eyelids to flutter and smudge it. “Now you’ve got to make sure you don’t touch your eyes because you’ll ruin it.” Mother said. “So no rubbing, even if you have an itch.”
“OK.” I meekly said. The time Mother spent defining my eyebrows, applying my blusher and finally my lipstick and lip gloss was nothing in comparison to the time she’d spent doing my eyes. Mother gave me a mirror so I could have a look. “Blimey.” I exclaimed. “That looks nothing like me!” I said as I observed myself. When Mother gave me a trial run a few weeks ago, she gave me a much more natural look than today’s glamorous palette. My skin looked like porcelain and my cheekbones are clearly defined due to the pink blusher she’d applied. My candy pink lips shimmered and shined, and the lilac and purple eye shadow complimented the overall pink palette my mother had given me. My eyelashes looked longer than ever thanks to the dark brown mascara I wore, and the eyeliner made my eyes look far bigger and brighter than they’d ever looked before. I gave my mother the mirror back and said thank you. My only hope is that in the event that I do see someone who knows me, there’s a good chance they won’t recognise me.
Vincent said I looked ‘beautiful’ and Mother asked him if he’d pop up to my room and fetch my skirt, blouse and stockings. “Oh, and shoes!” she added as he set off. When he returned, Mother suggested he make a start on his make-up whilst I got dressed. I’d have rather not have had to roll my stockings up my hairless legs with my younger brother present. I couldn’t look at him as I stood in my big pair of control knickers and my flat-bra whilst Mother attaches the tops of my stockings to the four suspender straps.
Once my stockings were on, I pushed my arms through the sleeves of my blouse and spent several very self-conscious minutes as Mother fastened the many buttons that ran up its back. Vincent didn’t stare at me as he was more concerned with applying his own make-up, but he did frequently glance in my direction. I looking down at myself as Mother fastened the buttons on the back of my neck. “Mu-um.” I asked.
“Yes Andrew?” she replied.
“Don’t you think I should wear a vest?” I suggested. “This blouse is really thin.”
“You don’t need a vest because you’ve got your bra on.” Mother replied.
“It’s my bra I want to cover.” I told her. “People might see it.”
“Well it’s better they see your bra than you nipples isn’t it?” she asked.
I knew which direction the conversation was going, so I conceded with a meek “I guess.”