After four weeks of eating a diet of freezer pops and Panera Bread smoothies, sleeping until noon, and watching marathons of “Ice Loves Coco” I have finally found employment. Don’t ask me how or why any intelligent businessman would think it a wise decision to hire my miscreant self, but in the same respect of Seal scoring Heidi Klum
for a wife, I’d rather not question the seemingly impossible. Now, a week and a half into my employment as an Admissions Rep (or “coach” as my bizie-nass card reads) at a local school I am finding time to reflect on my self as a person. So today on my 30 minute lunch break, I give you the three self realizations of the day:
1. When I eat an apple, peach, or any other fruit requiring I bite into it with great force, I get a little red mark under my bottom lip. It’s like a mini hickey from sucking too much fruit face. Now I am forced to apply cover up and walk around all day trying to avoid looking like the victim of a recent herpes contraction.
2. I have an addictive personality, best depicted by my over consumption of Emerald brand almonds and Ice Breakers sugar free mints. Such weakness proved evident in a morning meeting. I was sitting down with a new student and her mother, filling out enrollment forms. Not underway even five minutes and my lips began to curl, salivating, pleading with me to part them with the cool, minty freshness of a winter green tablet so powerful in its momentary glory yet so regrettable with permanent longing, it ought be contained in a syringe instead of a ½ inch green cylinder.
Answering questions, nodding politely, I tried to remain cool. Confident. Cannot let my true colors show until financial aid is dispersed. I smiled kindly at the mother/daughter duo, and reached slyly across the desk, grasping the container with my grubby fingers. Sliding it closer to me, a feeling of panic began to rise in my chest. Why is it so light? I pulled the container onto my lap, beaming a reassuring smile to my ignorant audience, and shook it. Nothing. No clinking of candies, no clattering of minty crystals.
The Sound of Silence.
Holding my morning breath I clicked the case open, revealing to my eyes what my heart already knew. Empty. Desperate for someone, anyone, to understand what I was going through, I began to tell the mother my story. Bought the container of 51 mints last Thursday, now on Tuesday am all out. Canyou believe it?! My eyes and hands scanned my desk in search of any latchkey mints as the mother giggled, unsure of whether to laugh or cry.
“I just love them. I ate them all this week,” I laughed, suffocating an oncoming sob. She looked at the container, then looked at me, and said profoundly,
“That’s a lot of mints.”
3. I rarely urinate. At my old job I used to use the restroom, on average, 11 times a day. I’d wash my hands, pick at my eyelashes, adjust my boobs – anything to fill the allotted time people expect you to take when going to the bathroom. It didn’t matter how much work I had to do (none) or how often I actually had to use the facilities (maybe twice a day) I was there as often as possible to avoid the cubicle. Now, in my new position, with my own office and higher salary, I find that my lack of daily urination has allowed me to not only sit for longer periods of time without moving, but also to actually get work done! Which is perfect, because as much as I hate the corporate America brainwash I underwent the moment I learned my new salary, I actually like this job. I know. I need to spray paint the bathroom or steal my own wallet or something. Kill me.
Perhaps more self realizations will come. Perhaps they will not. Perhaps I will give up writing forever in pursuit of a career in higher education. Perhaps I will model for Hustler. Which is more likely? You tell me.
Happy Tuesday, everyone.
The girl with unavoidable eye contact and a twitching right lid