Situational Anemia
For some reason, my body decided to waste a bunch of blood cells and iron on a baby that never came into existence, and now I’m freezing to death.
Also, more than the freezing and the aching and the cranking, I feel vulnerable today. Like an orphan in the snow. Like sharks can smell my blood.
I have this marled old-lady sweater that keeps me sort of warm. I wonder if people realize that I’m also using it to shield my person and the thin feminine clothings that are the only barrier between them and me.
Instead of the sweater, I wish I had a leather parka lined with wolverine fur. Instead of a barrette, I wish I had a helmet with spikes, and then steel wire wrapped around the whole thing in a protective, noise-blocking wad.
For good measure, I’d hang a sign over my area that says “Leave me the FUCK alone.”
I went and got some green tea. That should help, but I’m starting to think that the only real cure will be getting out of here and lying in the sun for a while. In a plain old bathing suit (and a tampon).
