Meeting you today.
You should probably know. I dress to play a role.
The person I am to you.
Is not who I am to me.
Sitting in this armour. A sour nostalgia wafts by.
Ball busting. Deal crunching. Champagne quaffing.
I follow your self-promotion with seething interest.
The months have passed. Or is it years.
You stay the same.
For me. Going back is hard.
I try to stay away.
Shop gossip shallow. Bitchy. Meaningless.
You’ve come foraging. To this farmer’s market. For titbits.
To chew on. To report back.
About how I’ve gone native.
To the ones still there. Having it large on loop.
Should I feel ashamed.
Lesser the woman.
For leaving the tribe?
I got my hair done in the city just for you by the way.
Greys now yellow.
And settled on my outfit days ago.
Is that what matters?
Wow. Don’t you look fab.
For a heavily pregnant mother of one. At home. Doing nothing.
Good for you! No time to yourself. I don’t know how you do it.
You don’t know. Because I don’t tell.
You’d fall off your seat if you knew.
About distant lands. Of mythical beasts.
No neither do I! And you?
Because your LinkedIn BS bores me.
The recruiter calls have dried up.
Since I killed her off.
Super to have a career break though!
You spit me out.
Resigning me to the scrap heap.
A broken doll.
You should know that I don’t care for Mulberry handbags.
Nor matching lingerie.
Nor Mont Blanc pens.
If that’s what you mean by Girl Power.
[Image source: Wikipedia]