i got a cold sore today. i also went to work. i work as a part-time receptionist for tradeworld realty. it isn't a bad job, since there are always worse ones, but it isn't the best either, since there are always better ones. one cannot have their cake and eat it too. but anyway.
i suppose i dress somewhat like a corporate whore. almost every company has a few, one in each office or floor. i think i look like one because my skirts are too short, or my slip is too long. either way, the black lace edging of the slip keeps showing below the hem of the skirt. i try pulling the slip up higher and the skirt down lower, but it doesn't make much difference. wearing a different skirt doesn't help either since they're about the same length, unless i wear my ankle length skirts. i also do not wear stockings, since it is summertime, and i wear heels because i think i am too short. thank god they're not stilettos. that really would be the crowning touch, wouldn't it?
so today i arrived at the office a bit earlier than usual, and i hadn't had lunch. i decided to eat in the food court. i suppose i ought to explain that the office is a few floors above a shopping mall. in the middle of the week, in the middle of the day, a lot of middle-aged women are at the mall. they looked at me with something similar to contempt in their eyes as i went by. even the lady who sold me the spinach bureka was edgy and short-fused as she tossed it to me.
they were the kind of women who would have executive husbands, who worked in offices with corporate whores in them. their husbands fucked the whores, and the whores fucked over the wives. sort of a vicious circle. a lot of wives see it as some sort of degredation if they can't "keep" their husbands. i suppose they deserve it.
looking at me and the blister on my lip, they could see their husbands coming home with painful, oozing, pus coloured sores on their stubby little penises, carrying flowers and trying to explain everything. but there is no explanation more eloquent and simple than the cold sore on my mouth.
so i cut my hair. most corporate whores have long hair which they wear up in painstaking french twists. mine was halfway down my back. it is now down to my ears, not even reaching my chin. tomorrow, if i can, i'm going to iron my khaki shorts and wear those instead.