Spotted Glory
(click image to enlarge)
Nina Temple

Busted

I miss a bikini, my oiled and tanned tummy, staking my claim during maximum sun hours, my towel a piece of property, fenced by sand, the contrast underneath my watch band and silver rings, and where my straps pulled down. I had less patience tanning my back, forgetting to turn my face evenly, right, left, right, left. But what a yield, pink shifting into brown, a thinning color, the contrast dialed up by white shorts, a bright yellow tank top. I’ve gone over my fighting weight, my driver’s license weight. I renewed it soon after I lost my appendix, after I’d lost seventeen pounds and almost my life. Everything fit or bagged. Surviving felt good! If I ate an egg roll or a glazed donut or macaroni and cheese, no harm, no foul. Next week, I will offer a vein and the blood panel will sell me out, because I’ve been operating undercover, eating fried things and drinking, posing as a thirty-year old, when I need to stand in the mirror in my one piece, see a pale sixty, maybe find some cool clear water for a night swim in a dark one piece.