Step out of the (avocado green) shower and towel off methodically - make sure to get all the little water droplets… you hate being cold. Wrap yourself in aforementioned (now slightly damp) towel only to walk a whole six feet to where you need to be. Walk the whole six feet, take your towel off, and unceremoniously drop it on the corner of the bed. Stare at your damp skin in the mirror briefly. Cock head to side and give a little shrug as you notice your tan-lines are still holding out strong and your practically-never-before-been-tanned bits of white skin are looking a little day glo. Pop contacts in; thank god that contacts are a thing. Moisturize. Always. Everything. (Can’t be too careful.) Untangle hair tie from now semi-unmanageable hair. Shiver a little as the ends of your cold wet curls graze the middle of your back. Comb out all the crazy, for… a while. Give it one final dry down and silently pray that it’s not too humid out today. Now turn to your face. What do we want to do here today? You consider the weather forecast and then who you want to look like what for today. Remember you always forget it depends on if you’re wearing your glasses or not too. Consider the fact that one of those previous two thoughts sound a little fucked up. Grab the same black waterproof mascara you put on almost every day of your life, turn to the beveled edge mirror you’re still kind of obsessed with, and begin applying said mascara until it’s all even and none of the weird little eye lashes are clumped together and you don’t have any black smudge marks on your eye lid and your lashes look beautiful and long and full and sexy af (at least up close in the mirror). Step back and admire your work; not bad. Re-remember what the weather is supposed to be like today and where you’re going and again, most importantly, who you’re going to see today. Re-consider that this thought, again, sounds just slightly fucked up. Walk to your so-small-its-hilarious-it’s-considered-a-walk-in-closet closet and survey the scene. Take out about five shirts. Grab two pairs of jeans off the shelf and check the back tags - you can’t tell which pair is which since they are basically identical except the first pair you bought (and didn’t have time to return before you needed to wear them) had a manufacturer’s defect so they are about 1.5 inches too short so (because you couldn’t return them because you already wore them because you’re kind of a dodo) you had to buy another pair to have jeans of a normal length. Roll eyes at the thought for the umpteenth time. Try on all the different possible shirt-pant combinations - yes, with both pants, just to be sure (some tops might be warmer than others so maybe a little wind on the ankle won’t be that chilling). Finally make a decision (just in the nick of time, per usual). Hop around in your (pretending they’re cropped) jeans until they’re finally in place and squeeze your chunky sweater over your head. Rescue the hair that’s now trapped by said chunky sweater from gently squeezing cold wet water on your skin. Give your hair a tussle and stare back in your beveled mirror - you notice the curve of your bottom outlined by the tight jeans and how your sweater is just short enough that it sits perfectly at your hips. Moderately hot, understated, you tell yourself until you believe it.

You’ll take it for today.

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