Okay, fine, it was panic at the grocery. I often sing and dance at the grocery, so they’re practically the same.
I have a zit on my chin right now that is so huge that it’s affecting the tides. This zit is so humongous that it has a little zit friend orbiting it, an overflow zit if you will.
At the moment, my enormous chin zit is in it’s most icky phase of healing.
Randy and I needed to run to the store, so I put on my normal uniform of jeans, Keds, and a black t-shirt. I didn’t bother with any makeup. I kind of brushed my hair and rubbed off most of the eyeliner than had taken up residence on the bags under my eyes. We have a heavy bank of fog in the area, so my normal solution of big sunglasses would have been more ridiculous than morning after makeup.
Who cares, though, right? I am who I am. People get zits! Sometimes, we don’t look our best! Sometimes, we look downright scary! Or at least I do.
Still, it was just a quick jaunt to the grocery. We would slide in and out and I was certain that no one would really see me any way. I don’t know why women in their 50s bemoan the fact that they’re becoming invisible. I love the invisible part. It means I’m a ninja.
Anyway, Randy went inside because he was freezing and wanted a coffee. I hung around outside and checked out the table top live Christmas trees. Joey requested a live tree and as this is his last Christmas as a child, I wanted to honor that request. The grocery store trees were shit, though. I could have paid 20 bucks for a Charlie Brown Christmas tree, or just go out again later and find a better one.
I walked into the store a few minutes after Randy.
Here is a list of things I would have rather seen when I walked into the store:
A squadron of mimes.
A T-rex in a tutu.
Both of my ex-husbands. Even the dead one.
Every boss I’ve ever had since the beginning of time. Except the one who smelled like boiled cabbage.
Beth Blessing, the girl who bullied me in the fifth grade.
Sister Christine, the mean ass nun principal who made my life hell at St Augustine elementary.
That last one is a gimme.
What I saw were two adorable little girls all dressed up in sequined Santa outfits. They were bright and shiny and had things in their hands holding them up to me. I hadn’t even processed why I was being swarmed by Santa’s cheery little helpers when I noticed the television crew behind them.
Yes. A goddamn news camera had swung in my direction. A reporter with perfect makeup and perfect hair was smiling and walking toward me.
Oh for fuck’s sake. For all the is goddamn holy. Are you fucking kidding me right now?
I considered picking up the smaller of the two girls and hurling her at the woman with the microphone to help facilitate my escape. I am sure they would have loved to have that bit of footage to go along with their heartwarming Toys For Tots story.
Instead, I took the refrigerator magnet from the little girl’s outstretched hand, grabbed a cart, and practically ran into the store. All of them were shouting “Merry Christmas” at me as I cleared the automatic doors. It was horrifying.
Randy was standing at the coffee shop counter.
Me: A fucking news crew? I had to run into a fucking news crew looking like this?
Randy: What are you talking about?
Me: Dude, the fucking news crew in the lobby. You just walked in. You didn’t see the fucking television crew?
Randy: Nah. Some little kid asked if I wanted a magnet and I just told her no and walked in.
Randy: What? I didn’t notice.
Me: They’re fucking ambushing everyone as they walk out. How the fuck are we going to get out of here?
Randy: We’ll just go to the far end of the store and walk the length of the parking lot outside.
Me: Oh. Yeah. We could do that. Good plan.
So, I’ve been working on this monumental task of self-acceptance. I still have a long way to go, but I have been consistently moving forward.
You know what can make all your progress fly out the window? I will tell you. Your progress flies out the window when you go out in public looking like you were raised by wolves and have never heard of shampoo and walk right into a staged news story. Because I cared what I looked like. I cared so goddamn much.
We made it out of the store without further incident. We walked to the other end of the store to avoid the “9 on your side” news team. Fuck them and their cameras and perfect hair. I must say, I don’t feel much like they were on my side.
I think I’ll shower and put on a little make up before venturing out again to look for a Christmas tree. At least that is what the zit on my face is telling me to do.
I’m also probably going to have to make a donation to Toys For Tots now.
Speaking of giving….I’ve been making a teensy bit of money writing recently and I decided to donate what I’ve earned in the past month to Mana. I wrote about them a few posts ago. If you are so inclined, please check them out.