WRONG SIDE OF THE BED

Some days I wake up and look in the mirror and see a huge, steamy, wren shaped pile of shit instead of the expected flesh and keratin. I cannot explain how or why this change takes place over the course of a single night, but it makes me want to shrink back to bed like some kind swamp beast. That was me Tuesday morning: Swamp Beast. I couldn't seem to get my ugly webbed fins and lumpy scales to fit into my clothes right.

Tuesday afternoon was beautiful, and after work I walked to a local cafe slash wine bar to read The Human Zoo by Desmond Morris. The coffee buzzed pleasantly about my head. After a few hours of reading and scribbling odd notes, I decided to walk to the co-op to buy an apple and soup for dinner. I think at this point I was still kind of hating on myself, but I was also completely distracted by a saucy tart, better known as spring. She was all sunny and breezy and warm. She made the birds cry out in unison, "Mamacita! Ie-ie-ie!" Spanish birds. It's the neighborhood, you know.

Anyways, as I waited in line to pay for my goods (turkey chili, as though you cared) I noticed this woman a couple lanes down. She was probably around my age, wearing a fitted print shirt sans bra. I wasn't staring at her, but I did borrow enough glances to notice the similarities between her physique and mine. She looked strong, only slightly saggy from the elements of work and gravity and it appeared as though she was hiding a tiny bag of Frito-lays just under her belt. It may sound stupid, but I was relieved to see this woman. It was not the way she was shaped, but the way she stood that smoothed the crease in my brow. Her body obviously deviated from the 'American Ideal' but she moved like she didn't give a shit. It inspired me. I thought to myself as I walked home: I can do that. I can do that.