Photo by Vinicius "amnx" Amano on Unsplash
Today the sound of my thighs rubbing together in jeggings combined with an ill-fitting bra wire stabbing me in the space between my boob and armpit is irritating me more than usual. Of course, more than this is bothering me, but I need things in my control to bother me. I’ll buy a new bra, burn the jeggings. There are so many dishes, the walls are dirty, the tub has gathered a spotty mold along the sides. I’ll clean. I’ll clean my way to contentment or at least everything will smell like artificial oranges.
My co-worker accidentally swallows a piece of Trident sugar-free gum. “My stomach feels weird,” she panics. “It’s not going to be out of my body for seven years!” She looks worried until another co-worker Googles “swallowed gum” and explains this is just a myth. The gum will pass through her system and she won’t have to wait until she is 31 to have some piece of mind.
I wonder how many of us are just an accidental-swallowed-piece-of-gum away from a total freak out. An utter and complete melt down. Eyeliner dripping down your cheeks, in the bathroom panic attack, running the water so no one hears you sobbing kind of melt down. Some days my mental state feels sewn together by mint flavored floss and a societal pressure to not look like a complete basket case.
My mom asks me what I’m doing.
“Breathing,” I reply.
Katrina Underwood is currently finishing her MA in English at Northeastern Illinois University in Chicago. She has been published in BALDHIP online magazine, Chicon Street Poets and SEEDS Literary & Visual Arts Journal. You can find her on twitter @Katrina.Bianca.
