Self Exposed

Slivers of light seeped into Ramonas' corneas as she slowly blinked open her eyes. At first, the light felt like a refreshing plunge back into reality but that didn’t last long. A splitting headache cracked into Ramonas' skull as she began to use her eyes for the first time in a while. Her latest cosmetic procedure had been the longest one yet and Ramona had been under anesthesia for over 15 hours. Her eyes adjusting to the sterile white fluorescent lights of the clinics' recovery room, the headache began to subside. From the king-size recovery bed she lay in, she took a look around the small room. Everything felt smooth here, like an expensive cave. The unadorned smooth white walls, the equally smooth marble flooring which held up a simple modern floor lamp and a state of the art air purifier which produced a  low hum that reverberated through the room. There were no windows in this room and the doors to the bathroom and the inner workings of the clinic slid open blending into the walls. Any other person may have felt like a caged animal, but Ramona felt right at home. Finally, her eyes circled back to a small glass bedside table. Ramona reached for her phone, which was plugged in charging on the bedside table, and was alarmed to see how many notifications were stuck on the home screen with more popping up by the second. Swiping up to unlock, she had to type in her password. Face ID couldn’t recognize her yet with all the bandages covering her recently rearranged face. The relief from the subsiding headache didn’t last long. As soon as Ramona skimmed the notifications it cracked right back into her skull. Right above her ears where all her worst headaches rested. Someone had leaked the news of her surgery to the media. Social Media Presence Buys Full On New Face! Is Ramona Even Real? “But how?”, the thought broke through her headache. She hadn’t told anyone yet! Not even her mom or her sister, her closest confidants. Not her most recent armpiece, Lucas, who although she trusted, not with this. Getting work done was always easier just not having to explain. Texts from her Mom, sister and Lucas told Ramona that this time she wasn’t getting the easy way out. The story was everywhere and Ramona racked her brain trying to figure out who could have parted their lips and let the story slip. She was a regular at the clinic she went to and basically funded the place. There was no way they would betray her client confidentiality and never had in the past. After doing some quick recon with her circle, assuring them it was “just some light maintenance” and that she was okay, Ramona pressed her perfectly pink manicured finger to the call button that would bring a nurse to her aid. After a few short moments, a small waif-like woman with a slick top knot came floating into the room. Ramona found at that moment she couldn’t speak. She had experienced lip-plumping procedures in the past but nothing like this. The nurse noticed her struggle and quickly assured her that the swelling was temporary and would go down in a few days. Ramona beckoned the nurse over to her bedside and showed her all of the articles that had been circling the internet and tabloids over the past 10 hours. She typed into her notes app, “Do you know if anyone at the clinic said anything? New girl perhaps?”. With wide eyes and a serious demeanor, Top Knot, that's what Ramona called the nurse in her head, she didn’t want to get too personal with anyone at the clinic, rushed out of the room to do some Nancy Drew level sleuthing on the front desk girls and clinicians. Meanwhile, a pang in Ramonas' abdomen let her know the anesthesia was wearing off and she decided now would be a good time to use the bathroom. When she pattered the ten steps over the cold marble to the bathroom, and pushed the button for the door to slide noiselessly open she got a fright when she flicked the light switch and saw herself staring back from the doorway. Creeping closer to the expertly lit mirror to survey the swollen mound of flesh that once looked like a face she gingerly touched her inflated lips, so big they couldn’t part. She started thinking about what brought her here. Not only this time but the first time, the second time, the third time, and every time after that leading up to this point. It all started small, an injection here, a syringe there, going with friends, and eventually working into the more invasive extreme procedures. Her mind began to wander back to the very first time someone mentioned something unsatisfactory about her face. It was when her social media presence had just started to grow. She was starting to become more well-known. She was only 19. It was a beautiful spring day in Los Angeles and she had been having a blissful shopping day on Rodeo Drive.  A mousy saleswoman at Chanel mentioned that her lips looked smaller in real life. Looking back Ramona realized that was the catalyst. Although she didn’t regret any of the procedures and she liked the way she looked, not right now, she would once all of this healed, it was the rumors that got to her the most. People guessed where she went, what she paid, what procedures she’d had done. The months of pilates classes shed taken just for it to be assumed it was a Brazilian butt lift. She sighed as she finished washing her hands and heard Top Knot come back into the room with her sleuthing report. None of the employees had said a word, “But you might want to check your Instagram.”, she suggested and turned out of the room. That was one place Ramona had failed to look. That was work, and she was on vacation, sick leave if you will. Sliding back under the white silk sheets and fluffy down comforter she requested for the recovery room, Ramona tapped the Instagram app. Ignoring the notifications she went straight to her own profile. If she could have moved her face her jaw would have dropped. The first post, pinned to the top of her profile was a mirror image of what she saw in the bathroom mirror only five minutes before. Her face was bandaged, bruised, and swollen. A stark contrast to her usual ultra-curated and composed posts. Some posts ads, some more creative, Ramona was known for her perfect feed of photos and videos. The post had a long caption and she started to read, almost not believing but at the same time absolutely knowing it was written by her. She was pleasantly surprised by what she was reading. It was honest, raw, and funny. If she could write a caption like this under anesthesia, maybe she should start doing some writing on the side, she thought to herself. But who let her have her phone accessible under anesthesia? She would have to take that up with Top Knot later. Ramona smiled as she read the last lines of the caption over one more time. “So that's the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And now that you know it all, it’s not as fun anymore, is it? I’ll be back to work in a couple of days with a new face reveal! But, until then, my lips are sealed.” Ramona clicked her phone off, plugged it back into the charger, and knocked back the painkillers that Top Knot had left on the table. With the knowledge that there were no more secrets, no more rumors, and she was in full control of the information surrounding her Ramona drifted away into a peaceful slumber with the slightest smile parting her new lips.