Hello everyone! I’ve been MIA the past 9-ish days because I’ve been on a writers retreat for school. Those of you who don’t know, I’ll be graduating with my MFA in Creative Writing in July, and I attend a low-residency program. You should research it if you’re interested!
But I found something quite disturbing during my trip, and that is, I have a brand new shirt that I love and it’s comfortable and cozy and slim and majestic and it makes me want to die.
The first day I wore it, I got all those compliments of just how adorable I looked.
I was walking on sunshine.
Up until dinner approached, and as I sipped my wine and ate my fourth roll since the dinner on the island is questionable, my insides felt like a Martian was trying to take over my body and beat my uterus to shit. I couldn’t breathe, talk, listen, smile, nothing. My cramps were unbelievably painful that I thought I might collapse all over the silverware. I haven’t had those cramps since I was like fourteen and my body was testing the waters of puberty. I would have rather given birth at that moment. I had to excuse myself and face plant onto my pillow and bed and wait out the storm.
The second time I wore this fabulous shirt was yesterday. Everything went smoothly. I found out my last semester mentor is the wonderful Baron Wormser. It was the last day of our residency with a bit of relaxation and minor panic since it’s my last semester and I still have an obscene amount of work to do. Dinner went swimmingly with more bread, some soda thats been lacking in my life for the past nine days, and a butternut squash lasagna type thingy.
We had our nightly faculty reading, where my mentor from last semester Kim Dana Kupperman was reading from her most recent essay. I love Kim, and I really was enthralled by her essay, until this happened.
Suddenly, I felt as though I were to projectile vomit all over Kim’s shoes. I knew she probably still had fifteen more minutes to read, so I had to compose myself. I just kept thinking, what is happening to me? Am I dying? I think I am. That feeling as though the grim reaper is tapping on your shoulder warning you that something truly terrible is about to happen. My friend Daniela and I had plans to leave as soon as the reading was over so that we could sleep in our own beds and sleep in as late as we wanted. Only it took me about 45 minutes to actually leave after the reading since I booked it the bathroom and yakked my brains out. And then did it again as we walked to the car and I slipped beside a building hoping nobody else would walk by. And, on top of all of that, I still had a 2 and a half hour drive back home. I eventually squished my face up against the window of the car to get the cool condensation on my forehead.
As soon as I had the opportunity to rip off my shirt, which I did with force, I instantly felt better.
Therefore I’m convinced. My shirt is cursed, which is highly unfortunate. Will I wear again? Probably. As of now, it’s even painful to write b u t t e r n u t s q u a s h.