Sunday, November 28, 2010

home for wayward girls

I lost my voice for over a week. When I got it back, a 2nd grader named Tommy ran up to me and said, "MISS LEIGH! YOUR VOICE!" Then he put both of his hands on my neck, rubbed vigorously, and whispered, "I love your throat..."

I lost six pounds in twelve days. I can now fit into the long plaid skirt my mom wore in the early '70s when she was marathon training. "Can you believe my waist was ever that small?" she asked me. I spent two hundred dollars on a sweater, a blouse, and a candle that smells like grapefruit. I invented a new outfit called "Sylvia Plath Goes Ice Skating." It involves chinchilla earmuffs. If I wear my new sweater every day until April, the cost per wear averages out to be negligible.

I'm re-reading Chilly Scenes of Winter for my book club:

"Connie Francis is singing 'Where the Boys Are.' He saw that movie. Yvette Mimieux got raped. He would like to rape Laura. That's not even true. He would just like to have a cheeseburger at McDonald's with Laura. For almost half an hour he had not thought of Laura. He tries to switch his thoughts to...what was her name...Betty, to have an erotic vision of Betty. He sees a slightly plump woman in a dress and heavy black boots. He tries to imagine her without the black boots. It is impossible. The black boots will not come off her."

1 comment:

Maggie May said...

Sylvia Plath Goes Ice Skating is the name of my new band.