Where Would I Be Without You - By CJ Hawk Page 0,6

phone booth. I took the first look at myself after a night of crying from my birthday party and loss of my latest and realized - I looked like hell. My mascara was waterproof but somehow had failed me. Dark black inking stains lined under my eyes like a raccoon and one long streak of faded black masked my face from the tips of my fingers constantly wiping the tears away. I could sue the mascara company for defamation of the truth but then again, is any mascara truly waterproof? I noticed my rat's nest of a hair that once had been updo'd upon my head the night before for the birthday dinner party. My long sleep tee shirt showed the wrinkles from many nights of sleep, and then I did what I was afraid had put that devilish grin upon his face. I lifted my arms and realized, yes it did; my underwear was exposed, holes and all. I bolted to the full-length mirror in my bedroom, bent over to touch my toes while glancing sideways into the mirror. Just like I thought, the horror of it. My holey granny panties made my ass look baggy, and one particular hole gave a bird's eye view to my precious jewels. UGH!

I tore off my panties and threw them in the trash. I stared at my reflection, wondering what my new neighbor thought of the crazy lady across the way. I grabbed a brush off my nightstand, the same one I had used last night to sing sad love songs to myself and brushed with one hand while I took the updo clips out of my hair with the other. Tossing those hairpins on the floor like pennies in a fountain, wishing my neighbor could see me in one of my finer moments, not like he saw me this morning.

As far as first impressions went, I was sure I just made a doosey on my part. However, for him, it was like watching a male centerfold model in action, an athletic winning his game, fine dining or luxury sports car. He looked way out of my league, but that wasn't going to stop me from doing a little daydreaming. At this point, I was not going back to the window or near it until I looked like a respectable woman.

I went back to the bathroom and decided I needed a quick shower before heading down into the basement to get the laundry done. I might as well just go on with my Monday. Chances were I wasn't going to run into my new neighbor, but I wanted to make sure if the chance happened, my hair and makeup looked great, and I would be wearing something that showed off my body that pilates worked so hard at almost every weeknight at the gym after work.

Just as I was about to jump into the shower, my phone rang. I reached the kitchen in just a towel, luckily positioned out of the line of sight of my new neighbor. I glanced at the caller ID and noticed it was my mother. There was not a prayer in hell I wanted to talk to her after her witty repertoire last night at my birthday dinner party. It was bad enough she made me feel completely unsuccessful in life, but had to compare me to my twenty six-year-old sister who, according to my mother, was the star on the Christmas tree.

I had to completely agree that my job as a production plant, low on totem pole, administrator to the production line manager, was not where I wanted to be at thirty. Not to mention, I had every intention of going back to college after my freshman year fiasco, but life, parties and good times just kept on rolling by, and I had no strong desire to return. Besides, I had full health benefits, a retirement package in the works and four weeks of vacation and sick leave a year, which was almost unheard of anymore. Nobody bitched when I wanted my Monday off to handle errands, and the first few really nice days in summer got a sick call in as well. My workload was easy, and my boss was a breeze. At this juncture in my life, and with the way the economy is, I would be a fool to go back to college and wait tables part-time to pay for it.

In all my daydreaming, as my mother's message sung out on the answering