mariyellr's Page

My thighs ache with muscles strained from; too hard workouts after too long away from the gym, walking in too high heels for too damn long on a too cold January afternoon, and two short children with two hands each grabbing closer and closer to their Mommy's no-no zone. Each of the little brats, which you refuse to take care of, lest take them to work one morning so I can get some bloody rest, is asking if they can return home. Hell, I'll take them home, I'd shove them so far up some other unluc… Continue

While scalding my tongue on a Grande-Extra Hot-No Whip-Soy-Six Shot Espresso-Four Shot Hazelnut-Vanilla Latte from the least authentic of places, the Starbucks that is attached to the close Whole Foods (the other is a 20-minute drive, and with gas prices these days, who can afford the trip, much less the food?), I said to my self, "Self, what are you?". And, while still sipping the offending beverage, I realized my faded skintight jeans and ironic tee paired with pink ballet flats, obnoxiously b… Continue

Grabbing my wrist- so narrow, your nephew could wrap his hand around (and he did, last night, at the cinema hesitant to remove his gloves for fear of impropriety and frostbite)- was a classic unnecessary gesture. Calloused and cracked and crying for a covering of lotion, which I have and you could have borrowed, shackles made of snow topped with bloodied cuticles that I did not bloody touch. I fear you do not wash your hands upon exiting the restroom, otherwise my gloved palm would be in yours,… Continue

Your car keys tumble out of your hand and hit the frozen ground. "Shit," you say, "this is a perfect morning," as the eggs slip out of the Whole Foods bag to meet the keys. As you stand there, yolk splattered, I laugh. The suede on my rather expensive boots is, now, also marred by your clumsiness. You glare, pleading for help, as I get in my car and begin negotiating my way to the parking lot's exit. "Shit," I say, "this is a perfect morning.