Face Value

During one of my trips back to Singapore recently, Carl announced some breaking news to me.

It was over supper at Swee Choon after we had made our rounds at Mustafa Centre for some mindless late night window shopping.

As we sat down at the indoor section of the dim sum eatery - still bustling at 2.30am with a clientele of hungry youngsters - Stanley took it upon himself to start the press conference.

"So, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for making time to attend this very important press briefing about Mr Carl Chang," Stanley said, as he handed me and Carl a laminated copy of the menu each.

"The news is quite breaking," Stanley said, appointing himself as Carl's spokesperson.

"In fact, it's not only breaking, it also involves inserting, probing, and poking around with a tool," said Stanley, who has a talent for turning all things mundane into something scandalous.

Carl the dense one forced an awkward smile.

With his new short hairstyle which gave him bangs, coupled with his python-sized biceps and bulky frame, Carl ticks all the right boxes that make up a himbo.

Meanwhile, I started ticking all the right boxes to make up a hearty meal - making sure I ordered the eatery's signature deep fried mee suah, char siew bun, my favourite carrot cake, and chicken feet which only I will eat.

"Adam, pay attention, this is a matter of life and death," Stanley said dramatically, stressing the word death by switching to a raspy voice.

I looked up at Stanley and gave him an exaggerated firm nod and returned to my task.

With Stanley, I had learnt to ration my attention, given his penchant for theatrical openings whenever he has news to break.

My sex bunny friend Stanley loves beating around the bush - sometimes, even going as far as to beat someone else's bush. 

But let me get to the point.

Carl has decided to get a nose job.

It's no surprise - Carl had on many occasions made that quite clear.

The press conference at Swee Choon merely reaffirms that - and sets out a timeline for his surgery.

It would not be done in Seoul as previously announced.

Instead, it'd be done at an aesthetic clinic at Paragon for a fraction of the price.

Months into Carl's decision, he had been doing some very serious research.

"Hey guys, watch this," Carl wrote in the WhatsApp group chat two months ago.

It was a YouTube link which opened up to some Thai reality show.

"This is called Let Me In," Carl typed, supplying us context for the first time in his life.

"It's a plastic surgery show - they give people free plastic surgery and they all become very beautiful," Carl explained.

Stanley immediately said he too watches video clips that lets people in - and they're all also beautiful people.

Curious to see what the heck this is all about, I clicked on the link too and despite not understanding a single word uttered on the show, I was hooked.

Stanley was too.

He was so wowed by the show that he made all his other friends watch it too.

In his words, the show turns Ugly Ducklings into Lovely Fucklings.

A typical episode would feature a guy or a girl, born with some form of deformity - which, in Thailand's case, always seems to be crooked or prolonged jaws or jagged teeth.

They then go to South Korea for major renovation and three months later, return to a studio in Thailand where they'd catwalk down an aisle with new clothes and a new face.

Carl was deeply inspired that, months into watching Let Me In, let himself go.

He called up South Korean plastic surgery clinics but realised that he could do it on home ground given that Singapore should be a safe enough place to go under the knife.

Plus, it'd be a fraction of the cost.

And so, Carl booked a slot to see the plastic surgeon in Paragon.

What I didn't know - which Stanley was about to say - was that Carl became increasingly obsessed with cosmetic surgery in recent weeks.

"I'm gonna spill some beans on Carl," said Stanley who also likes to spill his seeds on other men.

"Carl is annoying me to death with his plastic surgery obsession," Stanley said, rolling his eyes at Carl.

Our dense friend pouted and tried to look hurt.

Apparently, Carl had started commenting on everyone's facial features pointing out imperfections and how those can be fixed.

Watching Let Me In has turned Carl into a surgeon himself.

And to prove his point, there and then at Swee Choon, Carl pointed out that I will need major reworking on my face.

My cheekbones are okay, according to Dr Dense.

But I have an imperfect face because it's not asymmetrical.

Stanley threw his head backwards and groaned.

Then Carl asked me to put my forefinger to my lips as if I were a primary school kid made to silence myself.

The tip of my forefinger has to touch the tip of my nose, and it has to be pressed as close to my lips as possible while making sure the finger is perpendicular to the ground.

If there are no gaps when between the base of the forefinger and my chin, then I have a perfect face.

I did exactly as Carl instructed and found a gap of two fingers between my chin and the base of my forefinger.

Carl turned pale.

"You have an imperfect face," he said with a gasp, as if he had just discovered I had cancer of the chin.

"Stanley has a perfect face," Carl said with a beam, as if hoping to change that grim subject of my newly discovered imperfect face.

Stanley rolled his eyes towards the Swee Choon ceiling.

Carl says he himself has an imperfect face because he has around one-and-a-half finger spacing between his chin and his finger.

The way to fix this is to knock out two of your back teeth then push out the jaw line such that it can fill up the gap, Carl said seriously.

"Are you thinking of doing that?" I asked, with some fear in my tone.

"No," Carl said. "Not yet."

"My plastic surgeon says one thing at a time. We'll do the jaw after we fix the nose," he continued, making it look as if getting a new nose is as simple as a few mouse clicks on Taobao.

According to Carl's surgeon, Carl's oversized button nose would be fixed first.

He would shave off a large bulk of the bulb of Carl's nose and then give his nose some height.

That would help bring out Carl's features.

And then, Carl can sign up for other facial renovation.

For the rest of the supper, Carl couldn't stop putting his forefinger against his lips to measure the gap as if his chin would shift forward on its on with the passage of time.

Stanley later said Carl was beyond hope.

"I remember horsing around as a kid with my fellow primary school classmates," Stanley said.

"And I swear measuring body parts with fingers was way more fun back then, compared to Carl's method."



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Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people