Sans belt

Forgetting belt was the worst thing to happen today
Sans belt, there’s no marking off the upper from the lower. No tucking, no denying of the sloppy shirttails. Sans belt, you can’t lock all that in.
Slovenly, undermade, unkempt. Never a composed, definitive self. What is torso sans belt, even? What’s being defined, separated? You know where you begin and end; where do you middle?

With belt, though, there are the midsweats, the waistline sweats, greasing up the tummy rolls you’ve got going on there. You’ve got them going on. At least two.
But it’s the sweat of creating Your Self of the day. You lock that buckle into place — hole 2, maybe 2 if you’re having a good week, if you’ve been doing your crunches — you stand, and there’s torso.

Always remember belt.


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