Stripes: SF

The new fashion was stripes, carved out of flesh and formed from the shadows that fell into the void. She didn't like it. She didn't like any of the really extreme fashions, and just from looking at it she could already tell that it would reduce her speed and strength and make some basic tasks difficult. But her job was to appear in the latest fashions as she sold them to others, so she dutifully signed up for a slot on the schedule to have the surgery. At least she knew for certain that all the normal extras would be saved and preserved to be replaced when fashion dictated, or at her request if necessary. The chunk of forehead worried her, and she talked quite a while with the surgeon until he agreed to shift the rest of her face forward instead of risking removal of part of a hemisphere. They could say anything about how effective the reroutes were, and how people discovered and kept new talents, but she wasn't so desperate for a job that she'd have cosmetic brain surgery! The slashes along the eyes and mouth, she acquired approval to imitate with temporary shadow tattoos--it would be another product sell for those who couldn't afford a full body job. When the work was done, she thought she looked like a mime in an old flattie horror movie, but her commissions went up when she went out on the floor, and soon she saw rich women walking around like a horror-show themselves. She didn't flaunt it, herself. She knew that some mugger would think it meant she was rich, and disappointing someone with a weapon held to your throat was a very bad idea. So she always covered up with base makeup for her face and wore clothing that would conceal the absences that other fashionistas flaunted.


Inspiration: http://www.flickr.com/photos/91240080@N03/10327289076/
Story potential: Medium.
Notes: Eh.