Writing is like being able to put life into a snow globe. It takes the things that are too big and scary and reduces them into a form that I can put away when I want and look at from a distance. It also takes all that’s good in life and captures it into something I can take out when I want and look at close up and keep forever. It makes the bad things into something I can hold…and the good things into something I can hold onto. Both help so much that I need that little souvenir of life.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Improper Poll: Taboo Love
Recently I found the mother of all tackiness. It beckoned from its eBay page, drawing me back again and again for stolen glances at this, my porn of the wrist. And there it was, so beguiling in its size, its sheer glittery-ness. And the colors!
I am weak, I admit it. When I gave in and ordered it, I was trying to fool myself into believing that maybe I could sneak it into normal life, tuck it under a sleeve so no one would know.
When it arrived, it had been shipped all the way from Hong Kong in a little box covered in stamps. Cost of shipping? Five dollars. How can that be? At that price I can’t help but picture somebody paddling very fast on a raft.
And then…oh, gracious. It is the hoochy-coochy dancing watch of all time, this glob of gaudy goodness. But worse—much worse—is the size. Huge, yes, but the hinged metal cuff size is made for Asian women. And although I am very small boned for an American of European decent, it puts me in sadistic watch-bondage, cutting off the circulation and corseting me in like Scarlett, leaving my wrist in an hourglass shape that would put Marilyn herself to shame.
Alas, I may have to come up with another use for it, such as decorating yet another thing on my desk. Still, I know that I just can’t give it away. So here it is. Not the best shot, maybe, but it's surprisingly hard to photograph your own wrist. You can see that it is creating dual muffin-tops on my wrist, which I had previously thought was about the only relatively fat-free body part I had. I can't even show you the front. I am too ashamed.