Taste the Rainbow

I become “that misfit chick”

hanging around

the movie theater.

Raising Arizona, Fatal Attraction,

Throw Mama from a . . .

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.

“At the movies” is

my favorite place to be.

Sprain my ankle while watching

Flashdance in the living room.

Just another steel town girl

on a Saturday night . . .

Write funny film reviews for the

Butler Beagle and fall in love

with an air force recruit,

two weeks before his

basic training in Texas.

He seals his promise to keep in touch

with a beautiful, bittersweet kiss.

Time to really get in shape.

I am all about building muscle now.

BMI. Resting heart rate.

Cutting carbs.

I become “that misfit chick”

wearing turquoise scrunch socks

and yellow tights

doing the grapevine

in a purple leotard to “Jump”

at the aerobics studio

inside the mall.

Gradually,

my air force “boyfriend”

writes less

despite the rainbow cookies

I bake with Skittles

that bend all Mom’s spatulas

and the high-quality

humor essays I craft

about running out of gas,

and grooming our new shelter dog

who loves chasing skunks and hates baths.

I try to copy Molly’s cute

fuchsia Volkswagen

from Pretty in Pink,

paint my huge,

clunky Cordoba hot pink

using forty cans

of spray paint

leaving long pink drips down the doors

it looks great in the rain.

Become “that misfit chick”

speeding around

in the ugly pink car

with clashing

burgundy interior

who cannot parallel park.

My colorful comedic essays

can’t stop my air force crush

from disappearing.

Everyone’s a critic.

The aerobics studio

at the mall

is replaced with a pricey clothes store,

exploding with vivid hues, and I cry

to Cyndi Lauper’s “True Colors”

every damn time

because nobody sees my true colors.

All they see is

some misfit chick

trying to blend in

stand out

shape up

slim down

and hide that

Lose Weight!

Lose Weight!

Lose Weight!

her life has no direction.