On my first night back to work in a few weeks, I am hiding out in the locker room changing my outfit for the third time in two hours. I'm writing from my phone. This is the first blog written with one finger.
I am terrible at this, I think. Terrible at dancing, not at typing with one finger. I just overheard a girl in the next aisle over say she is from my father's hometown. Anyway, I am terrible at this. I think there is probably something inherently sociopathic about sales.
I just did a few dances for a man who said I am incredible, inside and out. He said I will make some guy very happy one day. I sigh. This observation is made while my boyfriend is sitting at home being sad. I hope he's not sad. He's hard to read sometimes. He often makes the same facial expression you make while filling out paperwork.
I think my outfit is losing its excitement. Perhaps a fourth wardrobe change is in order. Red stopped being my color.
Someone is fighting with her boyfriend over the phone. Another girl is on her phone speaking Thai. I'm on my phone blogging.
And I have been back here for more than an hour. I wonder if I should bat my fake eyelashes at a manager and ask for a waitressing job. My typing finger is getting tired so I guess I'll go get naked.