I was never sporty. I got out of running the mile in gym class every year with a note from my allergist. I wrote essays on the benefits of exercise in the library instead. I didn’t see the point of sports, or dance, or playing outside at recess. I was much more interested in reading.
You know what I did not do the day I nearly collapsed in the lobby of a Duane Reade, overwhelmed by the sea of plastic consumption I saw line the shelves, manic sobs and snot ripping from my face, my mother’s voice pleading with me from the other end of the phone, the security guard staring, the whole of Manhattan swallowing me