felt twelve again. subsequently felt less than feminine. was reminded of failed attempts to create perky bangs and perfectly straight hair. There have always been stray strands in my ponytails and runs in my nylons. i wondered secretly, do they wipe the soles of their feet with their sock just before standing on their mats? there must be a trick. a sly, subtle trick that everyone knows that hasn't made its way to me yet. womanhood is filled with these little mysteries.
then again, maybe it's not womanhood. maybe it's just about caring about the details. maybe it's not a high maintenance thing, it's just a maintenance thing. i'm often juggling so many things from so many spheres that details in any one of those spheres are luxury.
the whole thing likely wouldn't have penetrated my thoughts so significantly had this yoga mat mishap not been accompanied by a remark from my developmentally delayed transit companion this morning about the state of my nails.
What happened to your nails?" she asked pointedly her chubby finger motioning toward my crossed hands. Freshly showered not a half an hour before I was perplexed by her comment and simply replied. " Nothing, they always look like this. Some of them get broken throughout the week."
accustomed to her queries about what groceries i am going to buy and why i am not wearing proper boots this little zinger caught me off guard. if they were covered in chipped nailpolish or red raw from being chewed to the bone i'd understand. i had to look hard to see what could have prompted the remark. they looked like they always look. so odd.
considering the source, the whole thing had one of those talking fish dream sequence, the gods are trying to tell you something kind of vibes. i almost laughed at the near sitcomy-ness of the set up.
according to the rules of literature i suppose this main character is about to devote a chapter to putting in motion a series of events to resolve the conflict. don't worry, i'll spare you the details ;)
