I think my body double is going to murder me

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So, I sew things sometimes. For the first few years I just sort of stitched things and pressed them up against my body staring suspiciously into the mirror. It…sort of worked, things came out reasonably well.

Finally, when I decided I was going to keep doing this, I decided I needed a dressform. Problem is those bitches are like $200 and I had -$100 to be spending. So…I got a little innovative.

I’d read about making a wig-head using duct tape, fabric, and batting so of course my innovative self thought “I can make a torso body double too!”

I wrapped myself in a roll of duct tape, nearly suffocated when I didn’t leave an allowance for expansion of my lungs, and then cut it off and stuffed it with two pounds of batting. In the end I had a duct tape replica of my torso and I felt like a freaking genius.

Thrilled with myself I admired my brilliant handiwork and stuck a shirt on it to preen at how perfectly it mirrored me.

Content with a good night’s work I retired to my laptop to screw around on the Internet instead of doing anything useful. study. screw around on the Internet instead of doing anything useful. It was at that point I started IMing a friend of mine.

“Guess what I made!” I announced, pleased with myself. I showed him a photograph of the genius creation I’d spent two hours making, and his reaction was less than enthusiastic.

Offended by his lack of admiration I began snarking. “You better appreciate my hard work” I snapped, “or I’ll send it after you.”

Then, I went too far. “I can hear it dragging itself down the hallway right now.”

 

That was it.

 

I couldn’t sleep for hours, I had to keep my overhead light on all night, and I was afraid to walk into the room where I’d left it or even out into the dark hall. Every time I heard a bump or a squeak I felt a rush of terror. After weeks of overwhelming trepidation I finally had to throw my brilliant creation out because I wanted to remember what it was like to sleep again.

I literally lived in terror of an armless, legless, mimicry of my own chest made of duct tape and stuffed with cotton batting. I still have nightmares about it.

This is why I own a big dog.

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10 responses »

  1. Conversation between my seven year old self and my ten year old cousin at a sleep over in her room after the lights were out:

    Me: What are you thinking about?

    Her: The sheets.

    Me: What about the sheets?

    Her: How they have ivy on them.

    Me: What about the ivy?

    Her: About the ivy growing in the night, over my arms and legs and trapping me.

    Me: (awake for the next few hours, worrying about the ivy suffocating me in my sleep.

    I literally have never owned sheets with any kind of plant life on them because of this conversation. Which is why I can’t mock you for being afraid of your own torso.

    But to normalize this for LA Juice, I’ve been to a duct tape torso making party with a bunch of seamsters. And I’m impressed that you managed to make one on your own. Even if it did terrorize you later.

    • Oh geez that’s just frightening. Thank God I don’t own any bedsheets with plantlife on them, I’d be all uncomfortable lying in bed at night thinking about this story.

      I very nearly suffocated myself doing it, I wrapped it all tightly and then I was like “that’s weird why do I feel dizzy?”

  2. First off…duct tape is the ultimate master of the universe. Secondly, there is nothing scarier than our own heads! I bet it was an awesome body double until it was not.

    • I replaced it a year later with a proper dress form…that thing scares me sometimes too but I feel it’s less capable of mobility with the metal pole shoved up its ass.

  3. You know, you can fix everything with duct tape… If you can’t, well, that means you’re not using enough duct tape.

    So how could one *fix* fear? I mean, if I could figure out how to duct tape all spiders within 500 miles of me at any given point in time WITHOUT getting within previously mentioned 500 miles, then I’d be good to go.

Wow, I can even change the prompt? Neat. Talk to me!

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