le bitch

I've been at my new office now for an entire week.
Overall, it's going very well.
The clientele is wonderfully polite. Everyone is sweet, everyone is kind.
It's the kind of sincerity that makes you very skeptical- only because usually when people are that sincere, they turn out to be total assholes.
Genuinely nice people are somewhat foreign to me.

I once heard you should live in New York, but leave before it makes you too hard, then live in California, but leave before it makes you too soft.
Well, let me tell you kind reader, Los Angeles is the new New York. It will not only make you hard, but cracked and chipped and rough around the edges.
This part of me makes me feel like an alien walking amongst the smiling blonde haired size twos in this city. They bounce and shine and float and glow.

Somewhere inside this mind, I have become untrusting and paranoid.
Maybe it was all the scumbags I came across in my former city, maybe it was our house that got broken into 8 days before Christmas two years ago. Or maybe I stared taking myself entirely too seriously.
Forgive my rant, I have horrible pms.

Yesterday a fellow therapist was telling me what I should expect by working as a massage therapist. I tried not give myself a concussion from the rolling of my eyes as this 19 year old who has been practicing for a whole 8 months, offered to school me- a practicing therapist for the last 8 years, on a few tips about the business.
I told her in my most sincere voice, "I may be new to this facility, but I am not new to my profession. I think I can handle it."

I guess I should've just smiled and said thank you, just like the rest of the girls in this city would have.
But I couldn't.
I'm from Los Angeles.
There's no hiding it.