The Daily Routine of the Girl in my Body: A Short Story

The Daily Routine of the Girl in my Body

At 6:30 am, I wake up to the sound of my alarm I have become so accustomed to. I go on my phone, and my finger presses Instagram without my brain even processing it. I know I shouldn't be on social media this early in the day, but it has become a part of my routine. After 10 minutes of hopeless, degrading wandering and scrolling, I get up to prepare for the day.

I get in the shower, making sure not to get my hair wet. I bathe in my vanilla scented products everyone seems to recognize me by. I dry myself with my pink towel that has my initials embroidered, and walk over to my closet. I pick out my pink work skirt, white shirt, pink blazer, and pink heels. I sit in my vanity and start to do my makeup.

Minimal amounts of foundation, to not appear fake, but also not look quite real. The right amount of mascara to bring out my green eyes everyone compliments me on. Light eyeshadow and blush, to give into the phrase "more is less" people love to relate to makeup. And my clear lip gloss, to not overdo it. I used to love makeup. It was one of my favorite pastimes. The fun, blue eyeshadow and fierce, red lips made me passionate. I don't know when I went from that to what I do now.

Now onto my hair. I look through my drawers and find my pearl headband. The one I have worn on so many failed attempts at first dates, to so many job interviews, and family occasions. I put it on, slicking back my thick, straight hair. Finally, there's jewelry. I typically don't change much, but today I was in a good mood. I put on my graduation ring on my right hand, my necklace my parents gave me on my 15th birthday, the earrings I've had since I got into college 8 years ago, and, to change it up, I added a pearl choker and bracelet to match my headband.

When the portrait of a girl I have somehow become finally looks good enough to leave, I step out of my bathroom. I check the time, 7:30 am. Shit. Shoot. I'm late. I grab my purse and run out the door, leaving without having had breakfast. I guess this isn't so bad, I've been needing to lose weight anyways.

I attempt running to the bus stop, which can be very difficult with heels. Luckily, I don't miss my bus. I walk up the steps and pay the driver while giving him a nice smile. I look around while finding a seat to find only one other person on the bus; from what I can tell, she is a mom also making her way to work. I guess the fear of getting raped, groped, assaulted, or killed can be pushed aside until the drive back later today.

On the drive to work, I never take out my phone. My mom has always told me that I need to be alert at all times because danger may come from anywhere. I don't remember her ever telling my brother this, I must have forgotten.

When we finally reach my stop, I get up and walk out, making sure to wave and smile to both the other passengers and the driver while doing so. Although the next stop would drop me off right in front of the office, I get off on the one before it to grab the coffee for my coworkers and I. I'm not a secretary, but this task has been assigned to me. I didn't question it. I order everyone's coffee, my words coming out like a song I've known my whole life. Three years of buying the exact same 6 coffees can do that to you. It almost makes me feel like a robot. I hear the barista yell out, "Order 13! Order 13!". I stumble to pick up my order and push the door open while walking backwards since my hands are now full. I walk the three blocks needed to reach the office.

My coworkers are also barely arriving and take their coffees. None of them thank me, except Lina, my best friend, who makes it her mission to loudly say "thank you" everyday to try and get the others to follow her lead. They never do. And I never do anything about it.

I head to my desk, set my blazer on my chair, and get settled in for the next eight hours. I instantly get to work, continuing with what I had been doing yesterday. My desk neighbor arrives thirty minutes late, with no excuse, but nobody says anything. This is a typical Tuesday morning for him. Once, when I was five minutes late, my boss threatened to fire me and called my behavior "inexcusable" and "unprofessional". I had been late since the barista had taken longer than usual, but when I tried to say that, he shut me down. I was let off with a warning after apologizing and promising that it would never happen again. Three years later, it has not happened again. I don't pay attention to it and continue working.