Metamorphosis

Would you even recognize me now?
Me with the hair extensions and penciled eyebrows?
With the purse and the carefully pressed blazer?
Okay, I exaggerate. I carefully press nothing but my keyboard keys. I buy my clothes wrinkle-free. I “go shopping” now, and I still hate it, but the result is the same as if I didn’t: a stylish, make-upped and manicured me. A Libby who wakes up before the sun to stretch and meditate, hydrate, write and run. (Again, some exaggerations.)

But I don’t look like a teenager anymore, which is to say I’m getting old. Or rather, I’m getting better.

And the scraggly-haired, rumple of campfire-smelling, five-day-worn clothes wearing, dirt always under her fingernails and a knife always on her hip girl-that-was-me—she’d agree.
She who scorned the habits of the corporate, she who loathed the nine-to-five life, the younger Libby in her twenties would laugh at this new façade of herself and wink and say, go get ‘em girl.

She had no idea I’d ever look like this but this metamorphosis—hiking boots to corporate heels—suits her sense of adventure. This is a landscape as of yet unexplored. This new job will open many, many doors.

My new title implies leadership, and the young me is like, well that’s easy. But the goals of my new team are not a mountaintop or a river crossed, but company profits. And the old me, driving my ’83 Loyale that still smelled of leaked crab juice from that one time is rolling her eyes like, finally.

She didn’t know what it would be, but she did know I would do something so crazy as to appear perfectly sane to the Lower 48. That I would blend in, infiltrate, and do something like this. That’s why, in a manic fit before I left the cosmic hamlet by the sea, she planted an embarrassing reminder right on my deal-making wrist, a tattoo that reads: Your spirit yearns for wilderness. You’ll return so stay true to this.

It’s easy for me to be a bear in the wild. But easy bores me so I’m trying on a suit for awhile. Maybe I’ll get good at being a human too.

Wish me luck.
-Libby B
Hotel Manager
Towneplace Suites, Cheyenne