Adulthood in the Key of Skittles-flavored Lip Gloss

            Tuesdays and Thursdays are the week’s bastard children. You know what to expect from Monday (overall Hell), Wednesday (Hump Day), and Friday (TGIF). For those who do not work Saturday and Sundays, the weekends are revered, the celebrated children. In fact, many call Sunday “Funday.”

            And so after my alarm sounded every five minutes from 6:45am to 7:15am, I begrudgingly pulled myself out of bed. The pillows and sheets looked exhausted and seemed to let out an annoyed sigh. The blinds appeared aloof as the light from the overcast morning decided to show up. Better late then never. I fumbled around and eventually found my animal-print slippers. Missing my bedroom door by an inch or two, I soon arrived at the coffeemaker and said a silent prayer to the heavenly God of the hazelnut blend.

The aroma of the brew slowly filled up the kitchen as I meandered into the bathroom. I flipped on the light switch, looked in the mirror, and quickly flipped off the glaring vanity lights which seemed to say, “Good morning. You look like shit. Shower?” I passed on asking the mirror who was the fairest of them after the lights delivered their judgment. It’s not even 7:30 in the morning, and I’m already swearing at inanimate objects.

The shower heated up as I flung off my slippers and tamed my hair into a quasi-ponytail. Hopping – okay, creeping – into the shower, I reached for the body wash and the sponge. Nothing compares to the moment when the warm water falls onto your skin, but today the drops seemed to slap me in the face.

Stumbling out of the shower, a bit more awake, I wrapped myself in a towel and charged towards the coffeemaker and fridge. Filling my mug high, I reached for the creamer and the chocolate cupcakes iced with the Finding Nemo character. And so I sipped my coffee and ate Nemo, one piece of colored icing at a time. Nothing like massacring a cartoon character before 8am, I thought. Breakfast of champions.            

The clock never moves at a reasonable pace in the morning. I stared at my towel and calculated how much time I would have to get dressed. Walking into my closet I found a solid go-to dress. While pulling down the basket of shoes, a gray heel slammed me in the face. And so gray heel day it is! Throwing on my shoes and rubbing my head, I threw on jewelry and waltzed back into the bathroom to put on my face. I turned on the magnified make-up mirror. The dark circles below my eyes resembled trash bags, and so I went to work hiding and concealing the wear-and-tear of the past week. Instead of reaching for the lipstick, I chose the Skittles-flavored lip gloss and picked up my coffee. The sweet taste of the lip gloss and the hazelnut coffee sent my senses into a tailspin. Gooood morning.

Gathering my leather bag, I balanced the travel mug in the right hand and my keys and lunch in my left. I remembered the ten bags my Mom used to carry when she left for the day. I looked at myself in the floor-length mirror and realized I had inherited Bag Lady Syndrome. Do I tell the health insurance company about this?

I shimmied into the car careful not spill the coffee, drop my bag, and fling my keys. Throwing on my sunglasses and turning on my favorite radio station – too loudly – I spun out of the parking lot and into Thursday. The taste of Nemo, coffee, and Skittles lingered on my tongue. Was I really an adult or just a kid wearing high heels, librarian-like glasses, and overly-sophisticated perfume?

It is now 11am – still Thursday – and I am counting down the hours until Friday, until Sunday “Funday” and inevitably back to Monday where I will dress in my fake façade of adulthood. But for now, I'll reapply the Skittles' lip gloss, and face the day.