Morning assessments:
I toggled the light switch and heard the pop and saw the flash and instantly knew that the light bulb just died. I looked for a replacement in the linen closet, but I could only find a 40-watt bulb to replace the 60-watt bulb that just popped. In the dim light, my crows' feet wrinkles looked more ominous than usual. "Damn, I hate the thought of getting old," I whispered to myself.
The wrinkles were not the least of my body's problems. My breasts were extra pendulous and seemed to sag a little more today. Gravity and time was working together to stretch what were once nice, firm, and pert 34b cups, with nipples that pointed slightly upward, to sagging bags of flesh topped with tired looking nubs pointing slightly down. "Damn, I wish the light were a little brighter," I whispered again to myself.
Also, I couldn't focus my eyes correctly to look for stray hairs. The effort was useless because with my glasses, the focal length was off, and without them, I simply couldn't see distinctly. It's good thing that I wear contact lenses because wearing glasses makes me look even older.
The needle zoomed up as I stepped carefully onto the foot-pad of my bathroom scale. It bounced a little and finally settled on 135 lbs. "Damn, I'm overweight again!" I thought.
"A careful look into the tall mirror on the bathroom door confirmed what I had just inwardly felt. I'm fat in the hips again. I feel like Tweedledumb's sister. My 5'6" height appears too wide in the middle. It would be a challenge to get back to 120 lbs. in just two weeks. I want to be my 120 lbs. plump in time for my 40th birthday. This fat would be disgraceful. I'll try, and get close, even if I don't quite get there. The 120 lbs. plump is a weight I can live with most of the time. When I try to reach 110 lbs., I find it immeasurably harder to maintain. My body looks good, but the cost is too high. I made a deal with myself to allow a little fat in return for a manageable life. So I live life at 120 lbs. plump most of the time.
I turned to each side to inspect the damages.
"Now what the hell was that dark spot on my leg? A bruise, but from what," I thought? The bruise makes me look like I've got a skin disease or something. I feel like a big potato with those ugly black spots that you have to cut out of them.
I wonder what Kevin and C.D. think of working with me. They probably think I'm fat too, but wouldn't tell me that to my face. Based on their age, and their good looks, they'd probably prefer working with some one closer to their own age, not some one nearly 15 years their senior. I think Kevin is 25 and C.D. is 26. They seem such virile young men. I should call them hunks. They could easily be a woman's dream man based on their physique. The reality is that hunks don't go for women with crows' feet, saggy tits, a weight problem, and ugly bruises.
Young men want young girls with firm breasts, a slim waist, and blemish free skin. I should just face the facts. I'm not young and desirable any longer. I can't turn heads any longer. Nor can I turn back the hands of time. I can just try to preserve what I still have for as long as I can.
I looked in the closet and found a "fat staple" to wear to work. My "fat staple" outfit was comfortable and hid my fatty features well. I found some of the larger plain cotton panties, a pair of panty hose, and a matching white cotton full support bra.
The panty hose were stubborn, as usual. I nearly toppled as I lost my balance striving to pull the left foot hose in place. A nice white blouse went on next. It was a 50-point opaque cotton twill with buttons down the front. I pulled on a half-slip and a full navy skirt. Some comfortable shoes with 1-inch heels found me fully dressed.
Not too bad in disguising my faults. A little makeup, perhaps put on at work where I can see properly, will do the trick.
I hurried to catch my bus.
I saw that two groups of people had formed at the bus stop. One group was waiting for a bus, and the other group was waiting for a private car to ride to work in. I thought that it would be faster to ride in a car this morning. Normally, there is a line, but today there just seems to be a group of people waiting for cars. A few cars fill up and I move closer to the curb. As I wait for the next car, I am flanked by two young and beautiful girls. A car stops, its' window goes down, and a handsome man asks, "Anyone going downtown?"
I begin to move towards the car. The young girl on my left bumps my arm and my newspaper falls to the ground. While I retrieve it, the girls hop in and close the doors. The youngsters are whisked away. A giggle can be heard through the open window.
I angrily think, "They're laughing at me." I take a big deep breath. "Perhaps, I should just stick with my own age."
A man in his early sixties is standing beside me now. The man has salt and pepper hair and is immaculately dressed in an expensive suit. I guess we oldies can look good at times.
Another car drives up. Again, a window goes down and an offer is made. But this time, the older man, now smiling as he looks upon me, wordlessly gestures for me to get in the car first. I do get in.
I say, "Thank you," loudly, so that he can hear me. I quickly scoot across the seat. He nods, still smiling.
I inform the driver of my destination, "Bank of America, please."
The older man just says one word, "Exxon". He repeats it, "Exxon."
The driver nods as we pull away. We travel rapidly into town. The older man with his expensive suit and a smile is going to Exxon. He was a gentleman to me, and I want to thank him somehow. I could listen to him. I could be an attentive ear in the morning rush. He asks me if I speak German! I don't. He can't speak English yet.
We smile and sit in silence as the driver listens to music on the radio. An old Dan Fogelberg song is playing. It's that song about meeting an old lover in the grocery store on Christmas Eve. The couple bought a six-pack and brought it out to the car in the parking lot. They talked about what had happened since they had last seen one another. They toasted to their youth and innocence. They imagine, for a moment, about what may have happened if they hadn't drifted apart. I think he named the tune "Auld Lang Syne." It always reminds me of lost values, whatever they may be. It could be a lover, or a career, or a hobby misplaced and then remembered too late, but especially, the road never taken.
I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. The old man noticed and got a handkerchief out for me. I blinked out a few more tears. It wasn't that time of month. Why was I so moody today? I smiled and thanked him again. There was no doubt that I was in the presence of a gentleman. It was his character. He treated everyone kindly. Again, I wasn't special, but fortunate for his company.
My stop came and I got out.
I worked feverishly all morning. Our department was rushing to meet some deadlines for documents. Kevin and C.D. were friendly but seemed preoccupied. I wanted to talk or joke or something with them, but this morning they ignored me. I felt so alone. Isolated and brooding about it, I realized that I hadn't had enough human interaction. I enjoyed a tear on several occasions over nothings. Kevin loudly asked C.D. to lunch.
"Why hadn't they asked me," I wondered?
The deadline was met just in time for lunch. I had tried to get Sue on the phone to arrange some lunch plans, but her phone mail answered with an old greeting. She might not be here today.
Lunch:
I decided to walk at lunch. It will help me to lose the weight I needed to lose. I reached the elevator lobby and went for the revolving door. I literally bumped into Sue. I had my head down, and my feet were on autopilot. Sue rounded the corner from her elevators and we collided gently.
"There you are," she said smiling. "Are you ready for lunch?"
