3.17. BigWigs

Give me a nine to five and I’ll thrive to be the prettiest, baddest bitch you’ve ever seen. Because my numbers will pale in comparison to the potential worth of my bust as you thrust me forward to smile that keen smile at another stranger. Pimp me out to do your bidding so your fancy car and fancy lifestyle continue to function…all the while, I’m applying makeup with lights out and no heat. I’m shaving by candlelight trying not to nick the skin from the shivers so my calves look promising and show you the potential I have. The promise that seems to elude you when I’m not so foxy foxy.

But I’m not good at this game, sir. I’m not the type of girl who spends her time plucking and tucking and shoving thighs into the ever so tight and the ever so revealing. I’m wearing black because I’m concealing all the shit I wish wasn’t real about me. But these things don’t matter to you; couldn’t to someone of your magnitude.

You’re not the first titan I’ve come across. Let’s be honest. I’m the queen of faking it but so long as the money is rolling in and the stats looks promising, my lack of satisfaction is not something you’ll ever notice. Or address even if you did.

I’m not your prime cut which means I’m not your prime candidate and so I continue to be the mule…the minion…the tool that will traffic your goods to plump pockets of pious pirates…drooling over booty they want to attain in secret but hold back in public because certain treasures are meant to be spent…never invested.

Oh, Mr. Bigwig, don’t you worry because I’ll show up tomorrow and do your bidding and bring you success so a legacy is left behind far beyond my timeline.

I’m withering, sir, crumbling under the pressure. I’m trying to reach the goal but I’m sure the hurdles will be placed at dusk before I awaken…making the promises farther off until I fall short. And then you will bask in my failure because you’ve gotten the best of me. And another will come along, another who is smarter, prettier, younger, just a touch more clever and a little more submissive and way less opinionated.

But for tonight, I’ll put my hair in a trendy setting, I’ll paint my face so I’m almost unrecognizable and my tear stained cheeks become unnoticeable. I’ll slink into something appealing; maybe a dress and heels so you feel like I take it all just a tad more seriously. One more day to fake it in the game. I’ll start tonight as the sun is gone and practice my smile in a handheld mirror so I get the pleasure of making you money just right.

Just perfect.


1.165 – My Bookstore…My Time Capsule

Today is a bittersweet day.

Two weeks ago, I was thrilled to put in my notice as the Cafe Lead of my local bookstore. I have the opportunity to work for another company that can financially help me in my current situation. It’s a smart financial move.

I was happy to say goodbye to a lot of things. To try to bring some level of a clean slate to my life.

But…something happened.

I walked through the parking lot…my final walk…and cried. Just as I am crying now. Why? Yes, I’m going to miss people. Yes, I’m scared a lot of my “friendships” will end because I don’t work there anymore. Yes, I’m going to miss my customers. Yes, I’m going to miss being the girl that pretty much knows how to do everything. Yes, I’m nervous these newbies will screw up the amazing bonds I have built with my favorite and loyal customers…and I won’t be able to answer a question or fix a problem or find that damned book that no one else can find. Yes, I have the opportunity to pick up a couple of shifts if I’d like to make extra money…so I’m not even fully gone.

But that’s not why this change makes me cry so much.

In that building, I have faced the struggles of not being able to get pregnant. In that building, I shared the excitement of finding out I was going to have a baby. In that building, I have faced the struggles of a failing marriage and upcoming divorce. In that building, I learned that my best friend died. In that building, I learned that my father died.

I can’t count the number of times someone in that store has sat with me and comforted me through tears. No, my four years weren’t perfect and I’ve had plenty of moments when I’ve wanted to bludgeon people with sticks. But these people have seen my life change in ways I was never prepared for.

This building holds the moments that replay in my mind, break my heart, elate me, and ground me. This place is a capsule in time of my greatest gift and my greatest losses.

My daddy introduced me to that bookstore…not that particular one but the chain itself. It’s sentimental for me. It always will be. I lost him in that bookstore.

And this shit is rocking my world way more than I thought it ever would. Bringing up feelings I didn’t think were connected.

I cry. Because apart of me feels like I’m leaving that place behind…like I’m leaving that moment there. I’m leaving him there.

And I relive the pain.