Frumpdom

It's too warm. Fat girls don't like the heat. Well, this fat girl sure doesn't. Heat means less clothing. Less clothing means more skin shown. More skin shown means more embarrassment. You see where I am going with this? Winter is good because you are required to cover up. The sun is shining and my mood has gone sour.

Do you ever wake up believing every bad thing ever said about you is true? It happened to me this morning. I hope it has never happened to you. I got up, went to bathroom, stared at myself in the mirror and saw the gray hairs mixed with the brown ones, the freckles, the red spots, the laugh lines. My 31 year old face.

Today on my way to work I saw a guy shoveling some dirt. He wasn't wearing a shirt and he had a tattoo that stretched across the span of his lower back. It was an image of a license plate that said "Santa Cruz"- now that is some hometown pride. I keep walking. I pass the run down apartments where the laundry is always going making the air smell of fabric softener. I cut through the Kragen parking lot and wait for the light to change. I smell the exhaust. A blind man with a cane attempted to cross the street when it wasn't his turn. I thought of my dad, his cane, his guide dog. Did that ever happen to him? I saw three white vans. I thought of McBurney. I crossed the bridge and looked at the river. A man was sitting on its banks, holding his head and staring out at the passing water. I thought of McBurney again and wondered if he was lost in the thick of it still. He likes the river and would go there, stoned, to think stoney thoughts. My cd player is playing Ray Lamontagne and he is singing, "something tells me girl, this is bringing you down. . ." As I neared my building, a tall, thin woman crossed the street towards me. Something inside me felt jealousy and then shame. She was wearing a short skirt and a tank top. I felt bulky in my jeans and button up shirt. Frumpdom, that's where I am currently living. Trust me, you don't want to visit.