I’ve been having a mini nostalgia trip today. Once upon a time, I really looked like my mother. And I didn’t fret about the perceived thickness of my neck. And I was really vain and referred to my stomach as perfect. And the night that picture was taken, I was wearing black satin, cut dangerously low in the back, and I made jaws drop. I also drank shitloads on an empty stomach and ended up doubled over and dryheaving in a heap. But, I still was pretty hot.
I still have that dress here in my closet, pushed back into the corner, sad and neglected. I could probably still get it on…a quarter way before the seams ripped. I won’t even pretend that it’d still be able to zip. It fit like a second skin then, but draped flatteringly. I’d need a lot more material nowadays.
I’ve been feeling kinda hit or miss healthwise and I made the step of joining my closest Y last week. Swimming and steam rooms and all of that supposedly help me feel better. Buying a swimsuit wasn’t the semi-traumatizing trip I expected it to be. I’m a lot more realistic about my body and its limitations nowadays. I think I panicked more at the gym when I realized I’d placed myself in the high traffic area of the locker room changing and then when I had to sneak into the aquacize class with my little towel barely acting as a shield and all eyes on me. It’s one thing to be mentally comfortable in your skin and have other people see you in it in bad lighting. But the class was fun and I kicked ass, bad knee and shoulder be damned. Maybe there’s hope for me yet.
Last Friday night, I wandered to Williamsburg for a show at a venue I’ve seen only good shows at and amuses me by changing the decor every time I go there. I tangentially knew that the show was put on by this kid I’m conflicted about on a few levels. And I strolled up and there he was. We met in one of the random ways I can meet people when I’m feeling deliberate and the episode itself was fun if a bit tame. Strolling about the Slope on one of the hottest days of the spring, chatting aimlessly, and watching tv is strange on the surface, yet it was also perfect in a way. I so rarely just chill with someone I don’t know well. Underrated it is. I’ve seen him around since then, usually at shows, and he’s disarmingly friendly, but the outside venue communications lines seem to have dried up. I don’t really feel anything but kinda off-put. He’s an interesting guy and has a lot of the things I said I was looking for on my post-boy list of Mr. Next attributes. He’s got some of the too cool for school trappings, but I felt that he was a stand up non-pretentious sort of person. Maybe I was wrong and the vague shallow hipster impression is the real one. I’m suspicious of people who put up the fake front whether they like you or not. It veers too close to the Shady school of life. Then again, it seems to work for him, so what do I know?
I ended up in the balcony next to a guy being a “badass” and sprinkling beer on people. I may have pointed out the slope kid (and his stupid shirt) for a splashing. It was wrong. The devil made me do it. But, I was still surprised when dude got inspired and practically dumped the whole can on him. Sloper looked up all aggro style for a second, but the moment passed. I ran into him later and he was asking what the deal was with the beer thrower. I feigned confusion and wandered off.
I can’t help myself from playing the what if game as far as he’s concerned. Well, he’s not the only one. Sometimes I look back on the old pictures and think that if that was me now, I’d never lose. And then I remember the circumstances around the night this picture was taken when I couldn’t quite hold onto the attention of my spring semester focus at the time and senior year in general which was like one misadventure after another. The grass is always greener on the other side. But I think at the end of the day, I’d just like less rocks on my lawn.