Leo Ego

My work boyfriend told me I looked “fiiiiinnneeee” yesterday.

Then she said something about bouncing a quarter off of me.

Now, she did it during a virtual faculty meeting. So people could watch my reaction.

But also. She continued to tell me. After the meeting. In real life. When there wasn’t an audience.

So I think she meant it.

And it felt good.

Then she left. For, like, three weeks.

So now I have no one to left to feed my ego.

Ego is hungry. Leo egos tend to be in a constant state of starvation.

Tina Fey also forced Stepmom to tell me I looked good. So that’s something.

They didn’t mention quarters. But still…

But see. All I’d really done. Was color my grey hair. And put a skirt on.

I started the week off with pre-hair salon hair. That ima be real, I’m not dead sure had been washed at all during the previous week. And I was wearing running shoes. And hiking pants. And a sweatshirt. And a sports bra.

So you can see. How in comparison…

And they don’t seem to have realized it yet. That that’s what I’m doing.

Dressing like a straight bum 18 days out of the month. And then suddenly washing my hair and putting on a skirt.

So that people will tell me I’m pretty.

But now Work Boyfriend is gone for three weeks. Traveling. With her husband and family.

So there’s really no reason to wear dress shoes again anytime soon.

No pressure to look fiiiiinnnnneeee.

Or even just fine.

Which is good.

Because upstairs neighbor was apparently renovating his living room last night.

All night.

Just full on demo.

There were power tools involved.

And we all know dude can’t grip shit.

So screws were just bouncing and rolling alllll over my bedroom ceiling.

It seemed like. At one point. That he was trying to say “yeah, let’s get this floor out of here. I don’t need a floor. Fuck this floor.”

But then he got distracted by Naruto. On the television he’s placed directly above my head.

So I at least got to keep my ceiling.

But ima be rolling into work with those old lady tired eyes.

And whatever pair of stretchy pants I can find.

But no sports bras.

Because sports bras were not meant to be worn for 8 solid hours outside of the ultra marathon environment.

They start off nice.

You’re gonna think you’re cheating the system.

But a few hours in. And you’re gonna have to start heading to the bathroom for boob breaks every 30 minutes.

Running shoes, however. Were meant to be worn always.

Maybe Work Boyfriend will text me. While she’s gone. To tell me I’m pretty.

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