Since No One Asked

Since No One Asked

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Since No One Asked
Since No One Asked
Leftovers #89

Leftovers #89

New Substacks to subscribe to; the shareable feast of Chef Jeremy's CK ad; another political podcast

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Cat Sarsfield
Jan 19, 2024
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Since No One Asked
Since No One Asked
Leftovers #89
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A friend interviewed me earlier today. She asked great questions and I fear I delivered underwhelming answers – the words felt strange in my mouth, as if they were not mine to say. She photographed my face and as I faced one corner to another, my body also felt like it wasn’t mine. Earlier I had stood in front of the mirror unclothed and confident; so why did I feel so exposed in all these layers? Suddenly I hated my face. I’ve noticed how much more I observe myself these days than I used to. A constant torturing of the ego; it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy that time will always be one step ahead of us. Blink and you’ll find your skin is less elastic than it used to be. It’s why I scoop a spoonful of collagen into my smoothie some mornings. I eat dinner with friends and we joke about botox and how forty is not that far away. We slurp down oysters, trying to couple their creaminess or brininess to their respective coastal terroirs, then chase them with dry white wine while I search for a milestone to tell them about, although I come up short. I think that’s why I’m dreaming of leaving. I require a shift in perspective, but I don’t trust myself to make the right decision quite yet. In lieu of choosing a new path I go back to the kitchen and eat a spoonful of yoghurt loaded with hot honey and chilli oil whilst the fridge door is still open, even though it’s below freezing outside.

I don’t know nearly enough about Georgia O’Keeffe but I do know that this painting does something to my insides. A sort of melting? A yearning? A desire to feel the warm gloss of these shades on my bare skin?

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