New Year's Skin

And then, as the new day dawned they striped away our flesh. They knew that the flesh was past its prime. We had pasted the time for this year’s harvesting. The night before, they laid us in rows and sanitized the tools. They couldn’t afford to waste a moment each 31st of December. The process took all day, and those of us that they didn’t get to before midnight would retain his/her/their dermis until the following year. If the skin had become too fastened to the musculature underneath, we may carry it even longer— possibly for life.

Just the thought would make us cringe. Image not being able to start anew, if all the the creases and scars just piled up, year after year. After 20 years, you wouldn’t be able to recognize yourself. We sometimes heard of ones who kept their skins. Some kind of mental fragility where they had formed a bond with their dermis and epidermis. These individuals had even become attached to their hair follicles, connective and sweat glands. This condition was so rare that practically no one had witnessed it, except those who worked in the asylums. These cases where challenging to behold. Their skin was puckered-up like that of a raisin, their wrinkles constructed on a foundation of wrinkles.

They were professionals, as they should be, with all the tax money that was put aside each year to support their salaries. Working evenly and with care, they always tried to get the skin away in one piece. Purple tobacco candles were lit and musicians conspired to cultivate an ambient melange of plucking noises. Then, before the unveiling, we were collected up and slipped into a vibrating bath of sharp smelling oils. It came off easily across the stomach and back, but would stick around the jaw line, under the armpits, and in-between the toes. Glowing skin relinquished its hold more readily. Blooming skin belonged to those of us that had prospered in in some form: in heath, in wealth, or in love, etc. For those of us that life had pinched, the skin would be tougher, dryer, more liable to crack. After the unveiling, we were pumped for the toxins and malevolent thoughts that had collimated and coagulated in our systems over the duration of a year. Everything would be processed and analyzed and then we would be advised on how to proceed for the following year: “kiss your wife more,” “kiss your wife less,” “peel potatoes before eating them,” “clean the toilet in a less vigorous fashion,” “cut oranges into wedges before squeezing them into orange juice,” things like that. After these sessions, we always had the precarious impression that we were balancing on a fickle slack-line and any marginal shift in pressure would tip us toward life’s approval or topple us toward its approbation.

The ones of us that had pinched skin raptly listen to the advice, where the others of us that sported blooming skin confidently zoned-out and fantasized about the second stage of the new year, after the unveiling. This stage is known as the resurfacing. It normally occurs over a two month period, that is if one hires a team of professionals. However, if one is of a more frugal disposition, and takes on the meticulous business themselves it can take as long as six months. The title is somewhat self-explanatory. The resurfacing ritual requires a complete reinvention of every surface in one’s life. Basically, the more surfaces that are scoured and redone, the more fresh your re-beginning, the surer your footing at the commencement of the year. Rugs are plucked and re-fibered, walls are re-painted and wall papered, house sidings are replaced, wood surfaces are sanded and sealed, all food that has passed through the new year is peeled and turned into dishes and soups. You have to be carful what leave in the fridge from the 31st of December to the 1st of January. Carrots and onions are all very well, but peeling a hamburger or individual spaghetti strands is maddening. 

For metal surfaces like pots and pans, one buys a low-grade acid and burns off the outermost layer and then re-seals the surface before it has time to oxidize. In the last ten years, companies have been marketing layered objects. So that one can easy unwrap or un-peel the outermost layer to revel an untarnished new layer underneath. These objects are capable from shedding anywhere from ten to fifty layers depending on how much money one is willing to spend. However, many of us, particularly the first generations consider unwrapping to be cheating or dishonest. This is also the time when we restart the calendars and set our clocks back to zero. We also deiced what to do with our children, parents, and partners. They can either be exchanged of another pair. However, if there is a mutual decision to keep each other, contracts and vows have to be re-written and rituals re-performed. 

After the former skins are carted away, where they are broken down and recycled to grow next year’s batch, the new skins are brought out in their individually sealed and hung packages. It is vital that no creasing occurs prior to use. It is also important that we do not chose our skins. The professionals must conduct the measurements and decide on the size and color. The seals are removed to reveal shinny new flesh, with in which our cold raw stinging selves our gently tucked behind. Then the professionals work at the seams, pressing, massaging , and binding them shut. The following morning we all lay in bed later than we generally would. Some of us lay in bed for days. We scarcely dared to move. All afraid, to damage our new skins moored ever so slightly to our musculature underneath. Yet, at the same time breathless, eager, for the first caress, the first warm cup of coffee across our palms, even the first cut is regarded with an intent anticipation.