At the Office Holiday Party
I can now confirm that I am not just fatter than everyone I work with, but I’m also fatter than all their spouses. Even the heavily bearded bear in accounting has a little otter-like boyfriend. When my co-workers brightly introduce me as “the funny one in the office,” their spouses give them a look which translates to, Well, duh, then they both wait for me to say something funny. A gaggle of models comes shrieking into the bar to further punctuate why I sometimes hate living in this city. They glitter, a shiny gang of scissors. I don’t know how to look like I’m not struggling. Sometimes on the subway back to Queens, I can tell who’s staying on past the Lexington stop because I have bought their shoes before at Payless. They are shoes that fool absolutely no one. Everyone wore their special holiday party outfits. It wasn’t until I arrived at the bar that I realized my special holiday party outfit was exactly the same as the outfits worn by the restaurant’s busboys. While I’m standing in line for the bathroom, another patron asks if I’m there to clean it. Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz