They Don’t Warn You About Launch Day Arms

I BET I’m not the only person in the world who made the day she published her book about her fat arms

Listen to me now and listen to me forever. I think my local bookstore hates me, but that will never stop me. Here’s what happened. They bought two books on consignment, which means I don’t get paid if the books don’t sell. I call the morning of my publication day picnic bookstore catwalk extravaganza to make sure it’s on the shelf. I think I annoy the clerk.

My sister Trish, the makeup artist, does my makeup. I want it to be low key, but I want photos where I look great. THIS is the insidiousness that permeates a person’s mind when she exposes her fragile self to the clutches of social media.

So, we walk through the neighborhood, as planned, and stop in the bookstore to view and delight in seeing my book on the shelf. I give Trish my iPhone so she can film it as it happens. I want to be in the moment, but since I’ve orchestrated the whole thing, it feels a little cheap.

My mom grabs the book off the shelf and exclaims, “I’m going to buy it!”

It is sweet and well-meaning, but I look at the grim face of the clerk, who must have been the same unimpressed one who answered the phone, and I feel embarrassed. She doesn’t have to say anything for me to attribute her scowl to thoughts about me and my mom and that she thinks that I can’t sell a book without my mommy here to buy it and what a baby I must be.

I spend the next twenty minutes and several moments of the picnic ruminating about the bookstore clerk and that she hates me and is going to tell the whole staff about it, and they’re all going to get together and laugh about me and my book and my short legs in a long skirt.

In the meantime, I have a lovely picnic where people who are near and dear sit on blankets under a tree where I have arranged a charcuterie and a selection of non-alcoholic beverages to toast with and celebrate. It’s beautiful. When I get home, I take out my phone to stitch video together for social media posts. Horrified at the way my arms look fat from behind when I walk into the bookstore, I post almost nothing about the day. I ask Britt to send me the photos she posted where my arms appear svelte and pleasing while I pour Namari into champagne flutes. I observe myself as I reach levels of neuroticism never before seen, but still I think I can get even higher, and in fact, I do.

Namari is a Non-Alcoholic Apertif developed and manufactured by my sober vampire friend. We both got pregnant with sobriety at the same time and this picture is a celebration of our babies!!!

A few days after the bookstore incident, I am informed by a friend that the neighborhood bookstore has sold out of my book. I’m about to bring more books to them when I stop to re-read the contract and notice that it says if they need more, they’ll reach out to me. In an effort to be relatable and win back the favor of the clerks who obviously laugh at me every day, I send an email that explains that I didn’t post about their store on social media because my arms looked fat and that I want them to stock more books so that people other than my mom can buy from them.

Now, what I do daily is check my email to see if they’ve responded and wonder if I can ever go into that bookstore again. At the time of this writing, I haven’t heard back.

I can’t post about my book being available at their store because they don’t have any copies, and they hate me.

Other than that, publication is going well. I only check every distributer’s order report like four times a day even though I made a deal that I would leave it at once a week. Something I did do for myself was to take a full day off from anything book, social media or writing related on Monday. I can do this when I leave the house armed with only my Light Phone.

Now, how about you? Do you have any irrational thoughts that complete strangers hate you? Did you send an email you wish you hadn’t sent/have issues with how your arms look in pictures? Tell me in the comments or send me a weird email in reply to this. Make it overly familiar and unprofessional, please.