March 1 - 8 weeks on the plan

Week 8.Wednesday
We are two months in from my official resolution to kick my own ass. To obtain the Kylie ass. To rule the world through ass-y goodness. Things are going... poorly. My ass remains same as it ever was, possibly spreading like a lump of dough on a hot cookie sheet--I can't tell. I'm losing perspective. I think my skinny pants are a little tight on my thighs. Did i put these in the dryer? That happens sometimes. Soon, i will have the dreaded front-bum and accompanied by camel-toe, other descriptors modfied-by-hyphens are sure to follow.

A tale of woe
Claire doesn’t think she is anything special to look at with her long auburn bob, layers of freckles and slight gap in between her front teeth. In university she thought the tiny gap was sexy, but with age, the gap is starting to widen, not big enough to whistle through, but it acts like a sink-trap, catching a little bit of everything that passes her lips. Her clothes, while new enough, and in the right shapes to be called fashionable, are mostly beige. On the rare day when someone makes eye contact with her on the street or smiles at her, she is buoyed by the exchange until she gets to her office to find something stuck in her teeth or toilet paper stuck to her shoe. Her feeling of ordinary-ness is compounded by the fact that every lover she’s ever had sings that song “clarify me claire” from the movie Whale Music, right after sex.

Thirty-two lovers to date, and every single one of them sang that song in the high-pitched, blurry underwater sound of Maury Chakin. The singing of the song, in Claire’s mind, is an unoriginal response to an unoriginal woman. it never occurrs to Claire that her translucent skin and grace in bed mesmerizes every one of her partners and from the collective unconscious they pull out the song. After sex with lover #32, she enjoys the quiet and thinks “maybe this time” and nestles a little closer to her lover.

Thirty-two is a man named Kevin. He lays in bed with Claire and is pleased that she pulls closer. He creates a cradle with his arm so she can rest her head comfortably as she snuggles close to him. Lying there, Kevin thinks “this is crazy. I’ve never picked someone up at happy hour and brought them home. Never. First time for everything. And she’s so sweet. And the sex. The sex was outrageous. And the way she uses her tongue, I won’t need to bathe for a week”. Kevin sucks in a deep breath, filling out his chest and expanding his rib cage. Claire gets up to go the bathroom.
“everything ok?” asks Kevin.
“sure, just gotta, you know, pee” says Claire as she scampers naked to the bathroom. When she comes back to the bed he is propped up on one arm staring at her.
“what?” she ask.
“you look like an angel” Claire looks down, she is ghostly white. Kevin holds the blankets back so she can jump into bed. “a beautiful angel” he says again, slowly exhaling. Claire tucks in beside him. She’d like to get a little rest before hitting the commuter hustle. Kevin thinks of the end of his last relationship. Kimberly just wasn’t willing to commit. But this girl, this woman-girl-angel, this might work out. She’s gorgeous but doesn’t know it and is a Viking in the sac. The perfect combination. Kevin thinks quietly in his head of Claire’s luminous white body, her quiet way and her amazing flexibility. So pale. Like a moon. Like a jellyfish. Like a fish. Like a fish but bigger...

The high falsetto of a man who can’t sing begins…"Purify me. Purify me, Claire.Let me see you save a soul that is impaired. Purify me. Clarify me, Cl---"

The end of the verse is abrupt and punctuated with gurgling, the cracking of heavy bone, and profound bleeding as Claire swings the bedside lamp into #32’s head over and over again. The lamp was a gift from Kevin’s grandmother, made of brass and lead. The lamp came with a note; “Darling Grandson, these were your great grandparents. These sturdy little lamps have survived two wars and four generations. Take good care of them, love Nan”.

Claire pounded on Kevin’s head until he didn’t move any more. Tired from the effort she padded naked into kevin’s kitchen to look for coffee. She found instant. The flavoured kind, this was an International House of Coffee Swiss Mocha flavour. Or Moka Suisse, on the French side of the tin. More like hot chocolate than coffee. Claire drank the sugary sweet cup down and was surprised to find out she liked it. She jumped in the shower and scrubbed herself thoroughly. She waited until dark to leave then walked to the subway. At home, she showered again, put on her fuzzy pink micro fibre bathrobe and withdrew from her purse the small tin of Swiss Mocha instant coffee. Curled up in her favourite brown leather club chair, she sipped her flavoured coffee, turned on the TV and prepared to watch The Bachelor.