Punctuation
I am not taking myself as seriously anymore. I mean, I am. Let’s face it, I’m a Capricorn. But I’m trying not to. If everything is a constant bid to better myself, it is a contest in which I am always the loser and the prize always sits on the horizon, barely distinguishable in the haze. I’m not even sure what it is, that prize. So fuck that noise. I’m tired. I have two children now. The last time I sat down here to write, I only had one rambunctious one-year-old. Now I have a two-and-a-half-year-old and a seven-month-old (surprise!). I fell asleep one night and suddenly it’s been years…
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Giving. It’s what most women are trained to do pretty much since birth. Here’s this dolly, nurture it. Here’s this house, it’s your job to make sure it’s welcoming and clean. Don’t you want to learn to cook so you can find a husband someday? Give of yourself, it is your job to make others comfortable. Okay, maybe things have changed a little since I was a youngster (or at least I hope so), but women talk about guilt enough for it to be a pretty pervasive cultural condition. We feel guilty if our houses aren’t clean and well-decorated. We feel guilty sitting down to read, or watch TV, or paint our…
Permanent Employee
“Have a seat, Natalie,” the HR Director said, gesturing to the uncomfortably stylish chairs facing her desk. I sat and crossed my legs. The skirt I wore tightly squeezed my hips when I sat, as if they were encased like polyester-covered sausage. I seemed to have gained weight in the seven months since I’d started temping at the sleek marketing company. Perhaps it was the coconut cake I scarfed every day as a “snack” to get me through another painfully boring afternoon scouring the web for tech resumes…or maybe the hazelnut latte that went with the cake…or maybe the lack of exercise from working two jobs and going to grad…
