Thin by Vanessa Krauss

Author:Vanessa Krauss [Krauss, Vanessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2022-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13: Unfriend

After spending hours in the bitter cold, then commuting in the bitter cold, all I want is a hot shower to warm my soul.

I eject clothes from my stiffened frame, catapulting them across my bathroom. Beautiful shower. Glorious shower. Resurrect me.

The searing blasts soak me through, 50.1 kilograms when wet. From the outside in, I cook myself, a rotisserie, turning over and over as I roast. All this heat, this temperature, it will cost me. Cost me a raise and a bonus I do not have. On top of expending calories trying to and failing to keep myself heated at work, my food budget hasn’t increased. The money has to come from somewhere.

Shower thoughts, inane inspiration, I lean into what wisdom they might provide. I need to come up with alternatives to wearing cardigans. Something less bulky, less affronting, but warm. The poorly-constructed sweaters of the skinny norm are a no-go, no burrowing, Apana made that clear. If only it was easy for me to find something that covers all 180 cm of me; otherwise, I’d be shopping in the children’s section. Curse my thinness!

Thermal underwear, long-johns, body socks. Brain, I love you! Except, I also hate you. Dreaded knitted items. Shit. I listen to the shower pummelling away, maybe it will whisper a hint to me.

There are some fabrics that are thin enough and warm that also can be sewn with. Usually these functional fabrics are cheap; still, money I did not want to have to spend. It also means going out to the fabric store and facing the potential wrath of Cecilia, who is going to be there a lot because of all her Christmas orders. Do I want to take that risk, given I will freeze my ass off if I don’t? I don’t have time to go down there during the week, and the store closes at six P.M. A whole week. A whole week.

“Fuck,” I sputter into the spray falling around my face. I have no idea how I’m going to do this.

The only option I have is to layer what I can under the limited space my existing clothes allow me. Blouses under smart jackets. Tights and leggings under pants. It is the best I’ve got, not like I have any other choice. I need to survive somehow. I need to…

My head rests against the damp tiles. The slickness down my face is no longer just the shower water.

Come on, Naomi. Get it together. Pity party won’t solve my problems. I am a strong Black woman! Stop snivelling!

I stance with determination. I will empower myself. I don’t need anybody! I am Naomi Duant! Inspired, I turn off the shower and storm my bathroom, ready to conquer the world.

What I am actually conquering is my hair. Blessed are the women who can wake up in the morning, put a comb through it a few times, and be on with their day. We ladies of the deeply pigmented skin have to do battle with the unruly beast that is their natural hair.

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