Metamorphoses

Scurries from one side of her room to another,

Her short, black hair scruffed up on one end.

Asks me which hat is better,

Applies deodorant.

Deodorant?

I comment that Asians do not need it.

She thus imparts:

At the ripe old age of 36, it is now a must.

My fifth year college reunion comes to mind,

As does my 26 year old pits,

Reading my thoughts,

'No, it won't happen in your 20s.'

More examples are presented.

Gym once a month in your 20s = sexy ab

Gym once a month in your 30s = light flab

I contend that maybe it is a Korean thing.

Northern latitude, too much kimchi, kim jong il-infected water system.

Forget the fact that she was adopted from Seoul,

By Americans, and has never had kimchi.

Her eyes merry,

'Maybe your fucking gift-from-god Taiwanese genes will spare you then.'

One is allowed to hope,

But also allowed to be fascinated by our own metamorphoses.

Like, when did turning 30 mean turning into a white girl?

And like, I am soooo not even Taiwanese.

Like.

OMG.

Hair

twirl.