I grew up in the age of glitter. At my prom (in 1998) every girl was glittered, and by the transference power of glitter, every tux also sparkled. I got glitter in my eye, glitter in my hair, glitter under my nails. After that event, I learned the remarkable staying power of the stuff. For weeks, months, I kept finding it everywhere. Even in my food. I threw away the tube of Bonne Belle glitter gel, but it would not die. On my shoes, my pillowcase, even in my dog's fur, I would find small shining pieces of plastic. It wasn't until I left the state that I rid myself of the sparkly demon.
Two days ago, I was at a holiday party where people were making ornaments. There I saw my nemesis, glitter. I carefully avoided all of the sparklies, knowing well the havoc they wreck on innocent lives. But the girl next to me chooses to cover her ornament in red and green glitter. She made a little pile of each color on the table and then rolled her glue-covered ornament over the glitter. I felt the contamination spread. I got home, washed my hands, put my clothes in the laundry and hoped against hope that I was not infected.
Today, I go into my drawer and put on a clean pair of pants. Pants that were not in the laundry with the glitter-exposed clothes. Pants that have been in the drawer, safely nestled since a week before the glitter incident. But there it is! Red and green glitter clinging to the side seam of my black pants.
If I have to burn all my belongings and move, I will. Glitter shall not conquer me. Damn you, glitter, damn you.
this is in or around All over, damnit!