09 July 2009

Time Marches Gone


I have lost my watch.

I don't think you get it. I wore this watch every day.

[Insert bawling noise here.]

I bought this watch for myself. Is that sad? Moving on....

I had just started my first paying job at JC Penney. In the jewelry department! Oh, the glitter and glam of it all.... I was in charge of the bling...the gemstones, the gold-plated stuff, those kinetic watches that you had to shake to keep going, and enough sterling and gold chains to wrap around Washington County six times.

And I figured, quite rightly, that working in the jewelry department meant everyone would be staring at my hands and wrists all day. See, we were supposed to don all the doodads that the customers tried on, and we were supposed to artfully lay out the merchandise in our palms for closer inspection. So, I dolled up my fingernails with a coat of Evening Mauve and thought to myself: I'm gonna need a REAL watch!

Not this red-banded, Mickey Mouse jobber. Not the big ol' Arizona brand watch with a face you could see from across the street, but a real one. With links. Bracelet-style!

So I saved my paychecks and bought a skinny little Seiko to match my skinny little chicken feet wrists. I was sixteen years old.


Now do you understand?

And I'm quite away from sixteen these days. I've quite successfully gotten about fourteen years away from sixteen.

Oh JC Penney Seiko...where art thou?

[And cats, this would be a good time to cough it up, iffin you ate it.]

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