Droplets of sweat slither from my cellulite-covered thighs to the back of my arthritic knees, all the way down my varicose calves before settling at my elephant-sized ankles.<\/p>\n
The bus is too busy, too hot. I can\u2019t breathe.<\/p>\n
My scoliosis is playing up; the lower spinal cord discs rubbing against one another like siblings competing for attention. Pain. Pure pain.<\/p>\n
At least endometriosis is not in the picture anymore.<\/p>\n
Those “osis” medical terms have made my life hell.<\/p>\n
Note to self: find some positive words ending with “osis”. Bloody Greek etymological negativity. Those Hellenes love their drama.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
You\u2019d think those good-for-nothing-tattooed youngsters would move their lazy behinds to let an old woman sit, but they\u2019re too busy destroying their eyesight on their tiny, full-of-nonsense screens. The rhythm of their thumbs reminds me of a Queen song, but it\u2019s now “We will like you.” There is little rock left in this society. Shame.<\/p>\n
Some middle-aged women do offer their seats for still-fertile-and-flanking-it females and those obviously suffering.<\/p>\n
Note to self: carry a cane or pretend to faint when taking the bus.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Why on earth does it smell like sardines? I slide my right hand higher on the handrail to sniff my armpit. It might not smell like spring\u2014a little garlicky, probably due to the cyst I\u2019ve been told I should remove\u2014but the fish stink is not from me.<\/p>\n
Note to self: eat more garlic. It will keep people away.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I inhale deeply. Left, right, front, back, and find the culprit. It\u2019s the young man by the door\u2014well, young\u2026 younger than me, that\u2019s for sure, but then again, most of them are and don\u2019t seem to appreciate it. The smelly, fishy\u2014either self-serving, lucky, or unfaithful\u2014idiot is wearing shiny white trousers.<\/p>\n
Note to self: avoid shiny\/smelly. Stick with natural fabrics.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The poor lad stinks as bad as Snow White\u2019s breath when the lazy cow finally decided to wake up with a piece of rotten apple stuck in her throat. If only I had some perfume and an old-fashioned handkerchief like the French nobles during Louis XIV\u2019s reign in putrid, toilet-free Versailles.<\/p>\n
Note to self: keep something pleasant-smelling in my bag.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Is that man deaf? Oh boy, he probably is, being older than me and all\u2014and considering his choice of ringtone. Pathetic. Still, talking with the speakers on while on the bus\u2026 get a hearing aid or some earphones\u2026 You old tosser.<\/p>\n
Can you use earphones if you have a hearing aid?<\/p>\n
Oh wait, do I care?<\/p>\n
Note to self: get dumb niece to download some music to the tiny phone she forces me to carry around, to block out others\u2019 noise.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The woman standing next to me is tall and has ridiculously long hair for her age, and it\u2019s touching my left shoulder and my bare arm. It is soft-ish, but it tickles and I can\u2019t smell her shampoo, which means it\u2019s not that clean, so I wonder if she has lice. What a shame I don\u2019t have scissors in my bag.<\/p>\n
Note to self: always carry scissors in my bag.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Finally.<\/p>\n
I press the stop button and elbow my way to the door. “Sorry.”<\/p>\n
I am not.<\/p>\n
Move stinky, deafy, hairy. I\u2019m out of here.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I trudge along the quiet street and push open the rusty, creaky gate.<\/p>\n
Sigh.<\/p>\n
Now I am home.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I pull weeds, over-water the withered plants as if it could hydrate my soul, and throw dead flowers into the bin before kneeling next to you.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello, my darling.<\/p>\n
You were right.<\/p>\n
We are surrounded by idiots.\u201d<\/p>\n
The marble is cold to the touch.<\/p>\n
\u201cI miss you so much.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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