Folly of fluffy
Three teenage girls on the Skytrain, loud and full of themselves sitting across from me, suddenly get quiet and I hear, “...like her, just shoot me.” I realize they’re talking about me; they’re judging me. Before, I might have taken it personally; now, I think “sure, honey, come see me when you’re 50, and I’ll pull the trigger for you.” I never got that shallow, loud, fluff that passes as self-aggrandizement: ooh, look at my toenails. Ooh, look how tight my butt is. Ooh, there’s a boy nearby, let’s talk louder. Okay, back to work for me. But I just had to say it.
Posted by on 04/25 at 09:43 PM