Today I am wearing a T-shirt from high school–a Bend High wrestling T-shirt. Not even mine. My friend’s little brother’s?
I am wearing khaki shorts that are a little tight around the waist and kinda give me wedgies throughout the day.
I am wearing old tennis shoes with ink stains all over them.
My hair is still wet from this morning, rolled into a ball on my head. (The wet hair keeps my body cool, since there’s no insulation or air conditioning in my office.)
This is me for the past seven months. I work at a job so dirty I refuse to wear even my nice running shoes. If it weren’t for Sundays and boobs, I wouldn’t know what it’s like to look like a girl anymore.
I’ve decided to wear dresses every day in the Fall, when I move on to bigger, better, and how do you say this? CLEANER things.
Today I’m thinking, before I get my haircut, I should probably run home and change. I mean, you gotta look a little like something to get credit from the stylists. Although this idea annoys me. They’re so judgmental.