Today, you wake up with your head cemented to the pillow. You look down at your arms, without moving the anvil that is attached to your neck. Not gonna happen. And early morning yoga is out of the question. Your thighs and back laugh back at you when you silently pose the question. Ha! Woman! (Because sometimes, those things are irritable and downright rude. You might issue them demerits if you could.) What’s wrong with you? they ask. Bed. Bed is good.
There is a drip of dried beige paint on the cinderblock wall next to your right arm. You dimly acknowledge that taking notice of paint irregularities means you’re sufficiently awake to brush your teeth. Lump of weighty potatoes that you are, you flop gracelessly out of your bunk. Ergh. You stare down at your toes, blurry pink blobs, half-surprised to note that they are holding you up. It turns out you still have bones. And muscles. Somewhere in there, you have muscles.
You stumble down the hallway, tugging absently at your blue camisole. The door to the bathroom weighs more than you do, surely. You look down at your face wash and then up at the mirror.
Good. Lord.
The hair.
The entire left side of your head has dried in spiky straight porcupine lines, each wild tuft perpendicular to the skull from which it springs. The right side is such a poofy mass of curly reddish weeds that it might just be hiding a small animal. You grimace.
Then you grunt (womanishly, but with no sensible word-like sounds) at the perfectly well-coifed seventh grader who is staring at you incredulously with a toothbrush in her mouth.
Happy Monday. Let's celebrate with enormous quantities of coffee. Deal?
2 comments:
Observing paint irregularities definitely means you are awake enough... and having that conversation with yourself even more definitely means you are awake! Loved this. So fun to read your words. Hope the day agreed to your deal - sounded like a square one to me!
Deal. Nothing says good morning like a big pot of coffee.
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