You see, I’m a woman.
The first time I tried shifting my shape was back in the 80’s, right after I saw Field of Dreams. I was SO in love with Kevin Kostner that I figured if I couldn’t have him (which I couldn’t because he was nowhere near me, and he was already taken) I could at least take on his shape. That way, I could look in my mirror and see him looking back at me.
You have apparently never been a woman with a serious movie star crush, or you would not be looking at me like that.
Fortunately, I waited until I was two blocks from the theater to take on Kevin’s shape. A friend of mine morphed himself into Ray Liotta right there in the multiplex lobby, and he was mobbed by a bunch of female autograph seekers who charged after him in a Dionysian frenzy. They chased him for two blocks until the police caught up with them and made them all go home. My friend gave both of the cops a Ray Liotta autograph. They were thrilled.
I was wearing a big safari hat that I could pull down over Kevin’s face, so nobody recognized him … me … him … whatever. The first inkling of a problem was when I had to pee. To save the feelings of the squeamish and the prudish among you readers, I won’t go into any detail about this. I’ll just say that it was a different kind of experience than that to which I was accustomed, and leave it at that.
It was scary to be missing my bazooms, but I knew I would get them back when I went back to being myself. In the meantime, I rather enjoyed the feeling of power my newly acquired biceps gave me. I never knew how good it could feel to punch my left palm with my right fist. I kept that up until my left hand became numb and I couldn’t bend the fingers on it. It wasn’t the dumbest thing to do, but it wasn’t bright, either. I was becoming too masculine too fast.
When I got home, I headed to the bathroom and gazed at Kevin’s face in the mirror. I tried to talk romantically to it, but the words came out in his voice, not mine, and the whole effect was spoiled. I tried talking dirty, but that was only marginally better.
With a sigh of love and disappointment, I went back to being me.
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Inspired by a prompt posted on the Writing Prompts Group page on Facebook on June 2, 2018, by Evan Gow:
You’re a shapeshifter, but you can only shapeshift into famous actors.
I start every week with the intention of shifting my shape but then Tuesday comes and the gym seems so far away and a big fat slice of life gets in the way.
“Shapeshifter” might be a good name for a product like Spanx.
Oh, but all Spanx can do is push fat around to where it looks better. It would never turn me into the image of Kevin Kostner, not that I would want it to do that. Now if it could turn me into the image of Angelina Jolie or Kate Winslet, I would buy it in a minute!