Nevertheless, after careful consideration, I’d worked out that they were the most reliable and accessible source of the information that I needed.
These magazines could tell me which clothes and shoes to wear, how to have my hair styled in order to fit in.
They could show me the right kind of makeup to buy and how to apply it.
This way, I would disappear into everywoman acceptability. I would not be stared at.
The goal, ultimately, was successful camouflage as a human woman.
Mummy has always told me that I am ugly, freakish, vile. She’s done so from my earliest years, even before I acquired my scars.
So I felt very happy about making these changes. Excited. I was a blank canvas.
At home that evening, I looked into the mirror above the washbasin while I washed my damaged hands.
There I was: Eleanor Oliphant.
Long, straight, light brown hair that runs all the way down to my waist, pale skin, my face a scarred palimpsest of fire.
A nose that’s too small and eyes that are too big. Ears: unexceptional.
Around average height, approximately average weight. I aspire to average...
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