dysmorphia, paranoia, and other such afflictions

it's cold today.

it was summery yesterday. warm, pleasant. sun, fun, children playing, lovers kissing in the park. old women being helped across the street by eager boy scouts looking to avoid their den mothers' calls to dinner. birds dive bombing squirrels, flowers peeking through fences, gentle breeze washing clean the stagnant city air.

last night i walked home, sweater coat stuffed ungraciously in backpack. worn out sneakers pounding the pavement. keeping time with the stoplights, horns blaring as the mainline bus moves slower than these two stubby legs.

my feet rise and fall with traffic noises. left right brakes squeal left right lights change crosswalk beeps shuffle shuffle, don't step on that crack and break your mother's back. she's got problems enough without you adding to the list.

but today, it's cold.

shiver as stone tile touches bare feet. red toenail polish glares against pallid skin. wrap that blanket tighter. change out of thundercat shorts into woodywoodpecker pajama pants that sit low on my hips, 3 sizes too large but impossible to replace without regaining everything i've lost.

its time for fuzzy socks.

i drink too much coffee when i'm cold. shiver from the chill then tremble from the drug. legalized narcotic pumping through my veins. sipping away whenever the temperature drops below tolerable.

today, i'm tired of being cold.

i like myself better in the warm. the way the summer clothes don't hang off me, making me seem loose and disheveled. the way i can walk outside and not feel like a stuffed sausage roll with legs. the way my bulky coat hangs on that metal hook behind the door and doesn't want me to put it on. the way i can actually look in the mirror, cheeks flushed from sun, and not hate what stares back at me.

well, not completely.

i eat less when i'm warm. i feel less guilty with less in my stomach. food becomes more sociable, family dinners and lunch room conversations. swapping recipes with women twice my age but somehow less frumpy than i am.

i tend to eat in private when i'm cold. i gorge in corners, ravenous and never filled. not wanting anyone to see the simple act of hand to mouth. the disgusting scene of large women with large mouths eating large meals. 300 pound children drinking diet sodas with their big macs and fries. a slimfast shake for breakfast and 3 cheeseburgers for dinner.


swallow that one last bite, then push the plate away and exit stage left.

i feel like less than nothing when i'm cold.

like i could shiver away my very existence, fade away into dark nothingness. and no one would notice or care.

the world would keep on turning. it'd be slightly warmer without my frigid flesh absorbing all the heat from the surrounding atmosphere.

the world would keep on turning. the second day of spring, then summer, then the briefest weeklong fall ... 3 months of texas winter.

the world would keep on turning. and after a while, it would be like i was never really here...