I was accused of wearing too many colors yesterday.
“How many colors can you wear?” She said chuckling as I walked in the lunchroom to warm up leftover chili.
I peered down the length of me confused. Blue dress, green and cream and black stripped cardigan, black leggings, purple sandals. I knew that morning I wanted to be a bit strange. pretend I was in a circus or a Tim Burton movie, but I told her that I didn’t really consider black to be a color so 4 at the most and she said some cover-up remark that only I could pull something off like that. No one else, but me. Maybe it wasn’t a cover-up remark, who knows, but she’d already put it in my head: you look weird.
Maybe Friday I’ll wrap my whole body in every color I can find. I can think of worse things to be associated with.
Rainbow Bright is my homegirl.
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