The invisibility cloak

I see you. You don't think I do but I do. I acknowledge you. The girl in the self service labs of the market checkout middle aged single no kids yet dressed like she has three working two jobs in an apartment still figuring things out. You eye the skinnier woman next to you with a list and full cart in her gently polished hands adorned with a shiny ring and Ralph Lauren satchel to match. Deep down you wonder how she got there and you sense you should be there but you just don't care enough to be there. You are here. After years of yoga and self care therapy you realize you are here and that's enough. Stop questioning yourself. You may get there where she's at ten years behind her and a bigger behind to follow...or you may not, and that's ok too.

As you pick up your egg salad and cucumbers to binge on at midnight you wonder if your heat in the car is working and catch a glimpse of yourself in the deli window as you shuffle on in your flip flops and leggings. You are invisible to everyone but you. No, actually that Oprah epiphany moment the light bulb she calls it. You aren't invisible to others. You are very visible with that disheveled bun and all. You are visible to everyone but you because you choose that cloak. I see you now you see you. Take off the cloak and put on Prada bitch.