My Shoes are Loud

I am taking a break from interning to return to the evil world of temping. I intern for a website and temp at a very posh magazine. This basically means instead of spending an hour looking up videos of creepy robots, I spend an hour finding thirty variations of shirt buttons. (Found a suggestion on how to correctly pick up the buttons you have dropped with your fat unpolished fingers.)

For the first ten minutes of the day my mind went something like this:

ELEVATOR: Wow, the doors in here are reflective--my those Kors girls are skinny...is this top cute? OMG are sleeves out? ARE SLEEVES OUT?!

INTRODUCTIONS: Hi! Hi! HI! OHMYGOD Nice to see you AGIAN! Yeah I've totally been busy and awesome since I was here!

ACTUALLY THINKING: My shoes are making noise--my shoes are making noise--why are my flats making noise! Who are these people again? Apparently BCBG secretly makes fucking tap shoes.

Fifteen minutes into the work day I was reintroduced to a girl as she was WEIGHING herself in her office. But she didn't use just any scale--such as one that measures people in lbs. No she was using a clear glass Body Mass Index calculator.

Worst magic box ever.

During lunch I saw one girl secretly and self-loathingly eat a bag of M&M's and my officemate had cereal. I ate a sandwich and spent the entire afternoon freaking out I ate BOTH halves. Both. Halves.

By the end of the day I felt like a fatty tap dancer who is no good and misses her internship.