A Day In The Life of a Thin Girl

4 a.m..sit-ups in the dark, a few leg raises…10 push-ups before peeing like an arthritic racehorse.

4:25…head under the sink, hair standing straight up like a troll doll…gargle…make bed.

4:55…out the door to Starbucks.  Stop at all-night fruit stand for bananas.

Nestle in corner…answer email…check blog…flirt with Mr. Brook Brothers who was worried when I was French Pressing for two weeks.  He is cute, in a stiff, Grant Wood/Iggy Pop in a suit, kinda way.

6 a.m…back home…toss on shorts and a hoodie…off to Central Park.

run run run…a woman sidles up in the inky darkness on her phone.

“And then we, and we had…and now I’m…”

“GET THE FUCK OFF YOUR PHONE LADY…DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?”

7:15 a.mstretch stretch stretch…sprint to shower…put on enough cream to swim the Channel.

8:30 a.mwrite write write…chug enough coffee to shoot to Mars.

A donut with my Women’s One a Day Multivitamin…for girls on the go.

12:45…Audition for bone cancer..ahh, and where did the glamour go I ask you?

A woman in a mauve, much too tight, leather dress wonders, if I could possibly look a little sicker.

Do I have some powder I can dust my face and neck with?

I pull out my compact and pull in my cheeks.  “This is the best I can do,” I say, looking like Bella Lugosi in jeans and a button-down.

“You’re thin enough, but just look too well for this, but thanks for coming in.”

Despite needing cash, I’m elated not being hired for signs of health.

Bed Bath & Beyond to buy toothpaste…and where is that 20% coupon?

Gristides for milk, and look, Oreos are on sale.

I stop to pet 18 dogs, wishing, would all come spend the night with me.

3:30 p.m…Give a homeless man my bottle of water and sixty-two cents, explaining how I just never carry cash.

“Now if you took Visa, we’d be in business.”  He doesn’t laugh.

I stop at a church to light a candle after deciding to walk a bit.

I mean it is New York after all, with all her bells, sass and whistles.

4:45 p.m…It’s practically dark, winter in the wings, as I disappear into the subway, en route home.

Twenty minutes later, dashing off the train, tripping on my Sperrys, their right sole suddenly torn.

As long as mine isn’t, I guess it means, we had a pretty good day.

I let Al the doorman take my bags,   as though I were Grace Kelly.

SB

 

 

 

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About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
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20 Responses to A Day In The Life of a Thin Girl

  1. Rejected for looking too healthy? I’m surprised THEY didn’t have some makeup to make you look like a cadaver.

    Like

  2. Oh my … a buffet of bones sounds so thin and unappetizing; less than human. : O
    I’ve been reading your posts and apologize for my lack of commenting. It’s been a really difficult time wiht those gruesome hurricanes. It devastated my little paradise town and, sadly, Hurricane Maria has destroyed my parents homeland of Puerto Rico. I grew up in good ol’ Brooklyn but summered in PR. My parents idea of summer camp. I don’t want to clog your comment box so I’ll just say I LOVE your posts. They’re so human and raw. No sugar coating or prissing up. Thank you for that.
    Isadora 😎

    Liked by 1 person

    • I had no idea you’ve been so affected by all the storms. I’m so sorry. I’ll say a prayer for your parents.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thank you … Hurricane Irma stripped our roof shingles off causing damage to ceilings indoors, pool screen cage has no screens anymore and lots of tree branches too. No worries as we have insurance but hear they don’t pay what is deserved. Still waiting. : O
        Hurricane Maria wiped put Puerto Rico. My parents are or were buried in the National Veterans cemetery. No word from a sister I know lives in Bayamon right outside of San Juan. I have a mentally handicapped brother that lives in an institution. I worried a lot when the hurricane hit. With communication being zero, I’ve resolved that they have passed on to greener pastures. I hadn’t communicated in about 10 years with them – their decisions not mine. We’re all given a bag of rotting potatoes to carry. We just need to unload them. Thank you Susannah. You’re posts are always a pleasure to read.
        Isadora 😎

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      • Love we’re always given a bag of rotten potatoes to carry. The writer in me, salutes the writer in you. Natures’s randomness will always be a mystery. I’m so sorry about the damage.

        Liked by 1 person

    • PS I appreciate that you like my writing. Thank you.

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  3. Someone should make a movie of your everyday life! For one brief period, I got up at 4:45 to exercise and walk before going to work. I’m making up for it now.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. skinnyuz2b says:

    Nothing wrong with looking too healthy, Susannah. All your good habits are not for naught.
    Now you’ve inspired me to begin exercising again. I was so good about it right through to my mid 50s and then began petering out with brief gusts of gung-ho.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. micklively says:

    If you’re going to be rejected, this has to be the best reason. Frederick Forsythe suggests chewing cordite but I wouldn’t recommend it. 😉

    Like

  6. A busy, full day. I think that I shall steal your idea and write about my normal day(s) for a post. Sounds great…now, if I can just remember that long enough to…hmm, what?
    Scott

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  7. Why are we up so early? My favorite part of your day was petting those 18 dogs. Life doesn’t get better than that in my book!

    Liked by 1 person

    • I collect them as I make my way. I’m always stopping to ask, can I pet your dog? The other day, on Terror Tuesday, I was in a park way uptown and approached a woman with a beautiful gray and white Pitt that was dying to meet me. “Is your dog friendly,” I asked, already knowing the answer. “NO,” she said. Shoulda asked, “Are you friendly.”

      But, later on, coming home, I met another gray and white Pitt named Sarge whose owner, who looked as if he just did 10 years at Attica, couldn’t have been friendlier…see, packaging can be misleading…:)

      Liked by 1 person

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