Yesterday, I did some grocery shopping in the late afternoon. Few things to pick up. Milk. Some cider. Salad for dinner. Like that. There were only a few people around--some elderly people, a sprinkling of moms with their kids in the little cars attached to shopping carts, some guys who looked like they work construction and just got out of work.
As I sashayed up and down the aisles, everybody was STARING at me. Now if it was just the guys, I'd feel a little, y'know, slinky. If it was just the moms, I'd think they were bored and in need of some adult chat. If it was just the elderly, I'd think they'd need me to hook a box of something off a high shelf--a feat I planned to execute by climbing on the bottom shelf and lurching drunkenly at the top shelf until I managed to either pull down the shelving or snagged the box.
Yet, nobody seemed to WANT anything from me. They were just staring at me. Weird. Inexplicable. Bizarro.
Wait. Booger hanging from nose? Negative. Huh. Weird. I get to the checkout. The cashier is cordial, doesn't stare. The bag boy is dissolving in giggles for no particularly good reason. I assume he is high or "special, bless his heart for trying," as my grandmother might phrase it.
I'm cheery. I complete my transaction.
Walk to my car. Start to open the door to stow the groceries, catch a glimpse of myself in the window of the car. AH. AH-ha. So, yesterday when my friend had the "procedure," she gave me this little "America's Top Model" doll that she got in her happy meal. Last week, I copped to the fact that I occasionally watch the show until I have to quickly change the channel because someone's being really bitchy.
So, what do you do when your friend is doped up from a procedure and you want to make her laugh? RIGHT! You stick the doll down the front of your blouse so the doll's head is popping out of your cleavage!
Lesson #1: Who knew? Dolls' heads popping out of your cleavage make people stare.
Lesson #2: I'm "special, bless my heart for trying."
Have a great day.
