The saleswoman could glare at me all she wants. She was an angry S. They didn’t have my size, I checked. I wasn’t some lunatic pawing through all the sweaters like I was going to find lost treasure or my next meal. I just wanted an M. I used to be an S but now I was an M. And the done-up hanger with the whole coordinated ensemble was all Ms. I removed the sweater carefully and draped it over my shoulders. I used to be an S, but not the angry sort. The impatient sort, maybe. But I was hungrier. I wanted things desperately and that desperation was calorie reducing, or visa-versa. The saleswoman wasn’t so much of a saleswoman as a sales girl. I could have given birth to her, and I don’t just mean because I’m a size M, maybe a size L when it came to the skirts and dresses. I didn’t try on any of those, though. I bought a baggie sweater and a necklace and went home cranky. I still ate too much for dinner. Later, after I showered, I realized I never took the sweater out of my bag. That’s not like me. Usually, I lay out my new purchases on the bed and try everything on at once. I guess I wasn’t wild about the sweater. It’s hard to be wild about anything M when all you can think about is how much happier you think you were when you were an S.
Subway MapSubway Philosophy is about New York, culture, sex, publishing, memories, alcohol, or a combination of the above. Originally taken from drunken musings on the subway, it has evolved into something extraordinarily similar to most young blogs: which is to say, redundant, romantic, and woefully introspective.
Current Subway ReadingWhite Teeth