[ WP ] You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar 's body . The bigger the lie , the deeper and larger the mark . One day , you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen .

A living Barbie doll, complete with a bleached-blonde bun hairdo, bubble-gum pink lips, and matching nails, stormed into the green room. She wore a light grey suit with a skirt that was just a bit too short for a businesswoman, but certainly gave her an excuse to show off those legs. Not wearing tights was bold, but her legs only had one or two scars. Her eyes surveyed the room through a harsh squint, examining every aspect of the décor and furnishings. She even ran one finger over the top of the mirror to make sure there was no dust. Finally her eyes settled on me with that same look, and for a moment I thought she was going to check me for dust too. “ You must be the new makeup girl, ” she surmised. 
 
 “ Yes, Ma ’ am. ” I ’ d been doing makeup for celebrities, politicians, and glamorous wealthy women for a decade, but somehow her tone still made me feel like a just-out-of-beauty-school fuckup who could barely dye hair correctly. 
 
 “ I see. ” She looked me up and down, noting with just a hint of surprise that I wore a sleeveless shirt. By my age, most people go to great lengths to cover up their lying scars; I was fortunate enough to have relatively unblemished skin. I had the average number of little fibs and white lies, of course, but nothing deep. “ Well, you ’ ll do, I guess. ” She took a seat on the nearby couch while I remained standing. “ Now. The first thing you need to know is that he is *very* sensitive about his skin, all right? So the very first rule is *do not comment on it. * That is the quickest way to get fired, and we'll have your ass in court so fast it'll make your head spin. ” 
 
 I nodded. Most people were self-conscious about scars, and I ’ d learned that pretty quickly. I ’ d made it my *hallmark* to cover up even the worst of the worst. I guess that was why I ’ d been hired. And discretion was always the name of the game with big-name talent. 
 
 Her phone buzzed, and she dug through her purse to find it. “ He ’ s on his way into the building, ” she informed me. “ Get ready. ” There wasn ’ t much to do; it ’ s not like I needed to have my makeup brush in hand the moment the door opened or something. So I just stood there awkwardly. 
 
 The door banged open a few moments later, and a tuxedoed security guard entered. He swept the room from behind dark glasses, then nodded to the blonde woman. “ All clear, ” he spoke into his sleeve cuff. 
 
 Two more security guards came over the threshold, and then my client entered the room. I ’ d seen him on TV a hundred times, but never without makeup. And as he took off his shirt so that the makeup on his wrists and neck would match, I could instantly see why. It took all of my willpower to remain rooted to my spot instead of running to the bathroom and vomiting. It wasn ’ t that he had a ton of scars all over like most people. It was that his body was pretty much *one giant scar*. I tried not to stare, but I desperately wanted to just to see if there was *any* real skin left amidst all the scar tissue. I couldn ’ t even *imagine* the whopper he must have told to get that. 
 
 “ This is your new makeup girl, ” the blonde woman said from the couch. “ It ’ s… ummm… ” 
 
 “ Anne, ” I informed him, looking him straight in the eyes so that my gaze wouldn ’ t drift south. He just nodded at me, then went back to typing something on his phone. 
 
 “ Well? ” the blonde woman hissed at me. “ Get to it! ” 
 
 *Right*. I was so focused on not staring that I had forgotten all about doing his makeup. I jumped to life and opened up my kit like a doctor choosing his tools for surgery. I ’ d *never* had to do something like this. Normal skin tone cover-up was pretty much out of the picture here, because scars at *that* level would still be visible. So instead I grabbed the darkest shade I ’ d brought and began to apply it to his cheeks. 
 
 It took me at least half an hour, but I managed to perfectly conceal every single part of the scar by pretty much painting over his entire skin. The whole time I wondered why they needed me when they could have gotten one of those good special effects artists from out in Hollywood. But finally I put on the last touches, held up the mirror, and waited for some sign of approval. 
 
 He looked up from his phone, which he ’ d been on through the whole session. His lips, naturally thin but made even thinner by the amount of makeup on the surrounding parts of his face, pursed into a thin smile. “ Fine. I look great. ” he said, then looked back down. 
 
 But at least the blonde woman beamed. “ Great! Let ’ s get you out on stage, then! ” He stood from the chair and put on his suit; I was worried that some of the makeup might come off onto the crisp white shirt, but it seemed to be holding strong as he marched out the door with his retinue of security. 
 
 “ You did a good job… ” The woman said. I could tell that she ’ d forgotten my name again, but I was too shell-shocked to remind her. “ I think this is the first time he *hasn ’ t* found fault with the new girls. ” 
 
 “ How did that happen? ” I whispered, afraid that he might still be able to hear me, even though I knew he was walking out in front of the cameras right now. I could even hear the distant din of the audience clapping. “ What lie did *that* to him? ” 
 
 I ’ d expected her to be outraged or something. But she wasn ’ t; she actually laughed. “ *That* ” she scoffed. “ From *one* lie? Please. ” She clicked on the television to watch the show. “ He ’ s just lied so much that he ’ s run out of room on his body for more scars. ” 
 
 On TV, the show ’ s host stood from his desk and shook the man ’ s hand. “ So glad to have you on the show, Mr. President! ” 

