To Alice’s chagrin, fish eyes were the look for the upcoming year. And not just any fish eyes, mackerel eyes. Once again she would be out of step.

The desperate young girl leaned into the mirror hoping to get a more encouraging view but, even in subdued light, no wishful thinking could transform her large brown eyes into fish eyes.

She had searched the web for cosmetics or non-invasive surgery that would help. But even if she had the funds, Alice had been advised that neither would work. As the makeup artist on T.V. had put it, what was needed for fish eyes were round eyes dominated by large pupils (these could be created with drops but only lasted a few hours), both eyes situated close to the middle of the face, and no whites showing. It helped if your nose was flat.

“You’re not having surgery for fish eyes,” her aunt, the arbitrator of all things monetary, had said, “Next year it will be some other trend, then what will you do?”

Unfortunately, a few years earlier when cow eyes were in vogue, Alice had been too young to take advantage of the trend. Even so, her teacher had scolded Alice’s aunt for allowing Alice to appear mature for her age. When her aunt had protested that Alice had been born with those large limpid eyes the teacher had rolled her own cow eyes in disbelief.

Alice wondered if there was a country where fish eyes weren’t popular. But she didn’t know enough about geography to imagine where that would be. She assumed that now that everyone knew what was going on in every corner of the world, no country would ignore the trend.

And this year it was especially important that she look her best. She had her cow eyes on a handsome prospect—Jim Jack—who was unimpressed with her knowledge of physics. He was a self-proclaimed artist who insisted all science was suspect. “Beauty is my focus,” he had said, “I focus on what is tomorrow.” So although he didn’t say it, Alice knew he was a fish-eyes man.

“He sounds repellant,” Alice’s aunt had said. “I never trust artists. Look what they did with the canal. With all that plastic hanging over it and the purple water pumped in. It’s no wonder there aren’t any fish there.”

“Well Jim Jack didn’t do that,” Alice had insisted, but the mention of the canal got her thinking. What had happened to all those fish?

Of course their bodies had rotted but maybe their beady fish eyes hadn’t disintegrated. If she could get hold of some fish eyes, she could dip them in plastic and stick them beside her own eyes, squeezed together to cover the rim of her nose.

Now that was a plan. For the first night in weeks, Alice went to sleep with sweet dreams. Wouldn’t Jim Jack be surprised when she turned up at school, fish eyes gleaming?

The next morning, she announced to her aunt that she needed a net and some wading boots.

“Does this have something to do with fish eyes?” her aunt asked. “If so I suggest you just feel proud to have aced your physics exam and wait until someone comes along who appreciates that.”

“Tommy gave me a thumbs up when he heard I got the top mark,” Alice admitted.

“So,” her aunt replied. “Maybe he’s a better bet.”

Alice gave her aunt an evil stare and huffed off to her room. Humming along to the music on her earphones, she thought about how hard she had studied for that exam and how pumped she’d been with the result. But that didn’t fix her eyes.

Tommy’s hair stuck out like he’d been electrocuted but he was good at zoology and they were friends. Maybe he could give her tips on how to create fish eyes.

~ Melodie Corrigall

Published in S/TICK Feminists on Guard. Fall 2018. Issue 4.1