'Womannequin' by Jane Roberts
False eyelashes, then hair extensions. A caking of teak varnish all over her body, like a park bench. Tattooed eyebrows – lop-sided, too dark. Incongruous porcelain dish teeth waiting – in vain – to be dirtied by traces of food. Fillers for sagging cheeks and silicon in Everest tits, peaks always pointing North West. She talks out of her arse-implanted, suckerfish mouth. She dresses in combinations from catalogue advertisements. She’s forgotten who she is. You’ve never seen her.