This weekend I did the thing I have grown to loathe, down to even the cellular level. The thing that makes me cringe, feel physical annoyance, wish I were in someone else's body.
I went to the mall.
Priority one was to find some jeans that didn't make me feel bad about myself. In order to do that, you have to try on a lot of jeans that actually DO make you feel bad about yourself. Yay. The level of degradation depends upon the rate of occurrence at which you mindlessly enter stores catering to 12-year olds and/or 24-year olds with hips that could slide down rain gutters. I've found that I can be an easy with room to spare size eight at the Gap, but am approximately size seventeen-thousand in, say, Forever 21 or H&M. Also, I don't recommend going after you've spent a chilly season being depressed on the couch watching Law & Order marathons on USA. I mean...things don't exactly situate themselves in what you know as their optimal arrangement after such a period. Just so you know.
Well, enough about my sloth consequences in the dressing room. I actually was left with more of an impression from the day by a random interaction with a horrible, bully of a woman. Well, I don't know, it's possible she's actually a rather fine woman who does charity work and hand-addresses letters for her elderly arthritic neighbors.
HOWEVER.
On this day...at the moment in time when our lives intersected...she was sort of vile.
If there's anything I dislike with more intensity than trudging in and out of dressing rooms, it's walking among hordes of people who do not believe that space and particles and motion have anything to do with them. They are floating in their own continuum, chatting and daydreaming while walking through the bodies of us boring earthbound folks.
This woman (Horrible Fine Charity Bully), was turned & talking to her daughter, walking in a crooked line and generally not paying attention to the universe. Enter ME, walking directly toward a rack of tops, seeing Horrible Fine Charity Bully to my right and actually slowing down so as to avoid the impending collision. She stopped just short of nailing me in the arm and uttered a sweet-sounding "oop! sorry!". Whew! Impact averted! "That's okay!" I said, thinking what a polite lady.
Oh, but then...
Immediately following, I heard her make an animal-esque hacking noise of disgust. A SCOFF, if you will. Followed by snarky grumbles. I turned around and saw her continue down the aisle with a contorted face (apparently) still venting her anger to her teenage daughter. I was sort of transfixed, a little in shock over how this 40-something woman, who seemed the kind who might have a good job in a colorful, lavish office - who was well-groomed and nicely coiffed with a pretty teen in her charge, felt the need to be loudly pissy after {SHE} almost ran into {ME}, apologized with fabulously feigned sincerity, and I had been (dare I say) pretty damn gracious. She had snapped afterward and was suddenly and oddly ugly about it, and I was surprised.
I was admittedly still observing this when she turned around, and a furious gasp opened her mouth wide. "OH MY GOD and she's LOOKING at me!" she hissed to her daughter, and I couldn't hear but oh, I could see...there were more words MANY MORE WORDS and lots of eye daggers. I didn't have much time to react, as it was so brief and I was still puzzled over this woman's responses. I just turned around and my eyes widened, as if asking the tank top in front of me "wowww...what the whatwhat is WRONG with that angry lady?" Her eyes were on me even as I could peripherally see her daughter encourage her out of that section of the department store. But I wasn't feeling any of my own ire bubbling up. I wasn't upset that this stranger had almost assaulted me with her torso and was then smack talking me to her high school child in a display of woeful parental example. No, I really wasn't. I still felt peaceful and calm. I know that there was a time when I would fight Rude Stranger Affront with Bitchy Viper Sass-Back, but I'm glad that I'm not as easily roused to defend myself in anger. I guess after being 27 for six years in a row you really do grow into your maturity.
When I shared with Mr. S. what had happened with Horrible Fine Charity Bully while he was off having an easy breezy fun time looking at nerdy electronics in Best Buy, I told him the reason I felt myself staring at this woman during that span of about fifty seconds was because it was like watching a mad science experiment. I got temporarily locked in; despite my better intentions, it was sort of fascinating to observe.
You know...much like an episode of 16 and Pregnant.
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