Burlap Breakthrough

On Thursday I made coffee for a beautiful, put-together woman. She's tucked her crisp, white blouse into her black skirt, pulled her blond hair back into a neat, low, ponytail, and laustly - applied fresh red lipstick. She stood up straight, held her purse lightly on her shoulder, and smiled softly. She was ... simply graceful.

I was inspired by her presence, and told her I thought she looked very nice. We chatted about the boldness of red lipstick - she called it her "Taylor Swift" look - and I made her coffee. And as she walked away I thought to myself: I could do that.

I could.

I don't have to be the lumbering, hulking, legging wearing, clumsy bumbling fool.

I could be neat and tidy like her.

I could do my make-up, dress up, pull my hair back, stand up straight and walk in heels.

I could.

And boy and girls I'm proud to say that I maintained that delusion for a solid hour or so.

I maintained it until lunch when I suddenly found myself sitting cross-legged on burlap bags lying on the ground in the dusty basement of the cafe, eating a rice tortilla burrito I'd made and watching the rice flour crumble onto my lap.

No, Heather, you can't be like her.

Not unless you want to give up sitting on the ground and eating with your hands.