The Cruelty of a Poor Metaphor
It was 43 degrees outside, and the rainstorm that pummeled the area had just moved its way out of Southern California. The air was brisk and chilly, but the sun was shining brightly to sport sunglasses on the way to the bus stop.
God Girl. Girl God. Good Girl. Good God.
I couldn’t recall the proper name of the comedy duo as I was speed walking to the bus stop so I could create friction to make me forget briefly I was freezing my ass off in 43 degree weather. They were the guests on the podcast du jour. It was a distraction from the thoughts I was trying to keep to a low murmur as I made my way to work. Anything to keep from thinking. Anything to keep my mind from drifting. Anything to stop me from falling into a rabbit hole. It was just anything.
As I crossed the street, I saw a patch of mud and naively thought I could walk through it without issue. That was cute of me.
Before another thought could even enter my brain, I slipped. One of the few times I was thankful to have extra cushion on my hips and ass, as they managed to break my fall as I hit the asphalt.
PUCKER UP AND KISS THE ASPHALT NOW!
As I tried to get back up, my hands couldn’t get a grip and my feet continued to slide and
BAM!
I fell yet again, straight on my ass. The only thing missing was sound effects of slipping on a banana peels in succession on top of the ol’ jaunty tune, “Yakety Sax”. I could have easily been mistaken as being a contestant on a game show, trying to get out of a pit of slime to make it to the end of the obstacle course, slipping and sliding all over the pace, knowing the rest of the world was laughing at me, not with me.
I was in shock. I couldn’t recall how I managed to pick myself up. It didn’t hurt, but my ego and pride were severely bruised. As I looked at myself, I saw there was mud all over my pants and knew there was no way I could go into work looking like I arrived to work riding a mudslide. Ultimately, I had to walk back home to clean myself off and change.
As soon as I got into my studio, I took off my shoes and pants—both caked with mud.
Standing at the kitchen sink, sans pants, rinsing off all the mud I could off my pants, I noticed all the mud on the ass and thought about how much more embarrassment there was becoming fully aware I walked all the way back home with mud caked all over my ass. Weirdly enough, this wasn’t the biggest embarrassment I felt the in the last five days. The shame of other things managed to eclipse the brief moment I lost balance walking through a patch of mud on the sidewalk.
I finished cleaning my pants, shoes, jacket, and gloves, putting on a fresh, new pair of pants—literally, they were brand spankin’ new. One of the few good things about being lazy in the morning was having no interest in taking the stickers and tags off the new pair of pants I got in the mail the other day. It would have added more anger to a situation out of my control had I destroyed a new pair of pants within the first five minutes of leaving the house.
Bruised and sore, I sat at the edge of my bed. The podcast playing in my ears started to turn into a static hum, no longer providing distraction. The thoughts were coming back, the soreness I could feel on my left side and ass were setting in. Between getting over a head cold that left my head foggy, a period around the corner that left me emotional, and a heart that has been weary for days, I couldn’t take more. What an awful attempt of a metaphor to be hit with—smacked with reality, embarrassing myself as I fall down and attempt to pick myself up, not once but twice, only to feel residual embarrassment as I walked home to clean myself. I cried briefly, an emotion I have been trying to get out since Saturday that has only been stifled by anger. I’m not sure what I’m angry at the most—myself or the situation I’ve been replaying in my head like a bad home movie, over and over again.
The morning’s events felt like a cruel joke. As if the universe was rubbing my nose in my misery. I’m just a walking embarrassment with a mud caked ass, without knowing I had mud caked on my ass the entire time. I’m not ready to face the world, looking like a jerk with a cakey ass. For now, I just want to fall off the face of the planet, and hope I’ll be forgotten. Only then will I feel as if I’m no longer an embarrassment for being the dumbest person on the planet.