Not so hateful lately

I decided to wear a dress. Not sure if it’s wintery enough, fabric-wise, especially since the stockings are opaque and the heels… opaque. I’m not really fashion savvy, just Not-Looking-Like-A-Rhinocerus savvy. My heels click too loudly in the uncarpeted side of the office. I don’t wnt attention, i’m just tired of jeans.

In the kitcheonette I pass a coworker who peels a kiwi. I tiptoe around her looking for a cup for tea. “Why are you tiptoeing? What’s wrong with your boots making a little noise?” I say, “They make too MUCH.” “No. It is what it is.” Translation: Take Up Space, Anoush. (Thank you.)

Rewind to last night where I said “It’s like I’ve been on a diet for the last ohhh I don’t know and someone finally came to tell me it’s ok to stop now. I’m sorry. I relate everything to food. (A figurative diet – please don’t feed me now.”

Response:”They say the way people eat is the way they have sex.” I’m not sure if that’s true, but

But, I HATE LUNCH. i HATE FOOD-FOOD FOR LUNCH. People around the office discussing where they’re going to go for lunch, what they’ll order. (I CAN’T DO IT!)Once you eat dinnerish food at noon, or one, or even three, what’s left?There you are, all full, all satiated and what are your plans besides going back to your desk and working, again, right? Wouldn’t you rather eat light during the day and wait for some evening? Some real drama instead of cheating at noon?

Like, last week, he said let’s go to this restaurant for dinner. It was restaurant week. I was ok with it cause A. He’s my good friend and B. it was evening. A restaurant known for sprinkling sugar on their tortilla chips and their pumpkin flan. (I didn’t want either.) But I went cause A. He’s my good friend and B. it was evening and C. I needed a good conversation. Nothing on the menu was Anoush-friendly. Inside, i think, “Ok, I’m going to have to act tonight.” Aka, order what i THINK i should order and pick at it and smile. “Til Keith, our watier, says we have seered red snapper with capers. (Probably the third thing he mentioned in his “specials” monologue.) Can I have that? Can I Please have that? (I ask permission.) But it was me – all me. I don’t believe in appetisers on a financial/economic level, but I wasn’t going to be the finnicky bastard I usually am. I asked for balsamic vinegarette with it and they brought it to me on a plate with a doiley and a silver spoon. That was all me, too. Once I knew the coast was clear, a cocophany of non acting ensued. My favorite.

Try the flan, he says. (I didn’t want the flan.) Live a little bit. (I lived plenty.) I took my TIME with that snapper. Even the sauce it came in. Even the capers. So, I’m good, thanks. When I like something, I like it, ok? The snapper told me it’s ok.

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