Every Morning, I Wake Up With More Glitter On

I Lived it:

I wear glitter from time to time. But even when I’m pretty sure I’ve washed it all off or wasn’t wearing any at all, I wake up with a thin layer all over my body every morning. Does this happen to you? It doesn’t? Weird.

 

Every day by mid-afternoon, I look something like a Hooters waitress working the lunch shift. I work in HR. This is starting to concern me. I might as well change my name to Shana and pick up twenty pairs of orange short shorts. Where the fuck is all this glitter coming from?!!!

 

My friend Janet tells me not to worry about it, that I look “magical.” But Janet, I want to look like a human being and not a goddamn elfin princess. I get enough comments on my Duke University sweatshirt as it is. Add a fistful of glitter onto it and people think they know what kind of person you are. People keep asking me if I have any Molly. I don’t even have glitter in my house; why would I have MDMA? Why is this happening?!

 

 

My life is the stuff of nightmares. It’s like a tiny, relentless demon is depositing glitter everywhere I go, sabotaging my very existence. You haven’t known fear until your interview with a Fortune 500 company turns questions about what you did last night, your ability to come to work on time, and your basic hygiene. I can still feel the interviewer staring at nothing but my face for the entire interview.

 

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a boyfriend when you are constantly covered in glitter? As soon as they see my face, they immediately assume I want to go to the club, dance all night, and never see him again. There are no little moments of joy – only an endless feeling of being shiny. You want to get into bed with me? Don’t touch my blankets – you’ll never be clean! Because you know how hard it is to get glitter off of yourself? I do! I constantly do.

 

Don’t get me started about calling the super to unclog my shower drain every month. He always comes equipped with that, “if you were my daughter…” look on his face. Every time. He thinks I’m a prostitute! Just sign on the dotted line!

 

Speaking of which, I need to go take a shower now. I’m starting to look like a goddamn Christmas tree again.