conversation with god, 9:13am (6/15/15)

80 degrees, 83% humidity and I rush to the non air-conditioned bus, then hustle down the subway stairs and down the platform (that feels about 15 degrees hotter than outside) to slide into the first car to share a pole with half a dozen others, corralled by some asshole with a bike. As beads of sweat roll down my back and settle into my bra, plastering the clammy fabric to my skin, I figuratively shake my fist at the heavens and silently wail:

"God dammit! I'm sweaty and disgusting and I have no makeup on and I'm so uncomfortable in these pants that are cotton but feel like polyester because they're sticking to my skin now because this weather SUCKS.SO.BAD. Why God? I'm just trying to get to work looking halfway presentable, and do my job. Why have you foresaken meeeeeeeee..."

God: Really?

Me: Yes really! I don't ask much. I'm already so fat I have to wear my most unstylish, ill-fitting clothing. Must I suffer these additional indignities???

God: Suffer...

Me (whining): YES...

I grimace as another bead of sweat makes its way to my bra clasp.

God: Suffering like going in for a chemotherapy session? Or losing all of your belongings in a flood? Or being robbed by a crackhead?

Me: I know, but...

God: But what?

Me: ...

God: You know, some people have real problems.

Me: Sorry to have disturbed you.

God: S'alright. Oh look, the air conditioning came on.

I shift the bag whose handles are branding red stripes into my moist shoulder and turn my face to the crisp, cool air.