I didn't even know myself.
All year I shopped for clothes
That didn't fit – sizes I thought I was.

I bought large shirts and sweaters and jackets.
Picked out pants the wrong cut.
My britches were too big for me.

I wore clothes that didn't fit.
Like hand-me-downs from
My much bigger brother.

Until recently I didn't know my legs.
Or what my waist was.
I didn't know whose body I had.

This year I'm more aware. 
Of what to wear!
I've finally figured out what I am – a medium.


—Welcome to Wells Fargo.
—Hello. How are you?
—I am fine thank you. And you?
—Doing well thanks.
—Just the deposit for you?
—Yes, please. And thank you.
—Hey, we're both Smiths. Maybe we are distantly related.
The teller's name tag reads Marie.
—My grandmother's name was Marie. We called her Grandmarie. But she's dead now. And wasn't black – she was a quarter Jewish I recently learned. But maybe we are related. Distantly.
—Push the button on how you want receive the receipt.