Cringe

'So what do you think?'
'Mffffgrmm' i whimpered. With dismay, i realised from my expression in the glass how extraordinarly transparent i am. The face staring back at me was pallid, and bespoke of untold horrors. What vision had it been confronted with should should've made it so bloodless, so aghast? A vile serpent? A sour-skinned crone, gumless, with blood dripping from sagging lips? Had she looked into the eye of a basilisk itself?
It was as though the face of Eve had surfaced from the depths of ancestry, and wore on her descendnts face the very look that had appeared when she realised what paradise was left behind and saw instead the black mineshaft she had dropped into.(Metaphorically, mind).

Considering my first reply was somewhat lacking in eloquence (whilst nonetheless emotionally overt) i tried another on its tail.
'Yes, fine' I gibbered. No, this fringe cut doesn't look hideous. No, i don't feel like snatching your barber-ous instruments and doing a Sweeney Todd on you. No, i don't look like a toy doll with its feafully dead-straight fringe that bounces gently over its dead eyes. No, it doesn't look like this hairy waterfall is just a massive monobrow on my forehead, in grotesque ascent of its designated spot in the facial hierarchy.

'Yes?'
The unease which whined into his voice and was the anxious furrow in his brow was damning. He knew he had created a monster. In that moment, he had his own demons to face; a modern Frankenstein, who would no doubt screech as soon as the (in my mind) batwing doors had swung shut: 'WHAT HAVE I DONE?!!! Lord have mercy on my soul'. Complete with hand wringing, head-whacking and sobbing.

Cringe at the fringe.