Lindsay Lutomski

Dysmorphia

I used to love science fiction until I realized I was living in a reality stranger than fiction. It was on a mediocre Wednesday morning that my world was turned upside down and sideways - literally. On a typical foggy autumn morning in San Francisco, I took the ill fated decision to get a start on my 10,000 steps that day and walk the 7 blocks to work from BART. I heard the nagging words of my Nana commenting on the freshman 15 I never lost after quitting college 2 years ago. She never let it go that my grandpa lent me 20k for my education after he died just to let myself go. I lived in a tiny studio apartment above a coffee shop off of Shattuck in Berkeley. It was always smelling of burnt coffee grounds and stale scones that regularly churned my stomach to the point of never wanting breakfast nonetheless coffee or tea. Less calories in my life anyway. So when I was on my walk, it was odd that a café would entice me enough to distract me from my route to work. The smell was-forgive me for being punny-otherworldly. Transcendent if a smell ever was. I walked into the café, bewildered with a sudden hunger. I found myself pulled to a small table next to an even smaller shelf of books. A shapely young woman sauntered over to me, eyes locked with a certain intensity that made me blush. She had what seemed to be a blue hue to her skin. Translucent almost. Intoxicating definitely.