I’m packing to leave town.
Suddenly all of my new clothes seem like masks, shams, lies. I put the dress on with the shoes and the manicure. My nails are poorly matched, my toes seem to be searching for solid ground in the heels, and the dress is screaming all sorts of nasty things about me.
I think it is just cold feet on my part. I should be looking forward to this mini-vacation. The first time I’ll be spending two nights in a row outside of my apartment since I’ve been home from London. My first trip out of state since I’ve been home, actually, and only my second out of the city.
The guys had to force me to leave work today. Bryan literally took a jug of iced coffee out of my hands and sent me on my way. I got my manicure and pedicure, went to Walgreens, went to the Daily, went to starbucks, came home to pack.
In Walgreens I ran into a customer who I barely recognized, but he recognized me and approached me. It was BRIGHTON! that is where I went in England, we’d chatted about it and I couldn’t remember where I’d gone. He saw me today (two weeks later) and stopped me and said, “Was it Brighton?” “Yes, yes it was.”
At the Daily, Tommy was my waiter, of course. We talked about the wedding and he finally bought me the beer he offered me in June. Only because he mussed up my order and brought me woodchuck instead of newcastle.
Then I came home for the dry run of outfits, nail color, shoes, and hair. It’s a disaster. I look like I’m playing dress up, not Sex in the City at all… more the Tale of the Country Mouse in the City or something.
Whine, whine, whine. It’s annoying to me, the record in my head. At some level, I know I look good, but at another level, I know I’m single. Not connected at all, but if I didn’t feel accomplished this is it. But I’m happy in my work, in my living situation, with my friends, with my family.
Why can’t all this be solved by new shoes? Come on? Why can’t I be that woman? Why can’t I be no deeper than a shoe box?