I usually eat lunch at my desk (in cubicleville), but I decided to get out of the office for a bit today. Yeah, I get a little crazy on Fridays - you know it, girrrrrrrl. So, I hopped in my mom-mobile and drove to Walmart. (Don't hate! It's close and I needed some stuff, okay?) I grabbed a cart and picked up some fruit, ibuprofen, waffle mix, and a York Peppermnt Patty. Like I said, very urgent necessities.
There is a Subway inside the store, so I checked out at the register and pushed my cart into the restaurant. I grabbed a bag of chips and ordered the veggie patty on wheat. My favorite part is when I say "a little bit of light mayo, please" and the sandwich maker inevitably unleashes a torrent of mayonnaise unlike the world has ever seen. If anyone knows of another way to say "a little bit of light mayo" that might be more effective, please let me know. When my order was ready, I took my tray and pushed my cart to an empty table. All of the tables have four chairs, so I didn't feel like an ass for taking up a four-seater for myself. I proceeded to eat my sandwich while pursuing a guilty pleasure: reading People Magazine.
Just as I was absorbing some very crucial information about the state of Princess Kate's uterus, an older lady from a nearby table walked up to my table and leaned towards me. She had been sitting with a friend, who was also an older lady (yes, I know I'm old, but they were older). I thought, "I wonder what she needs? Maybe she wants one of my chairs. Or maybe she wants to know where I got my Peppermint Patty."
"I just have to tell you," she started. "You are so pretty. We just wanted to tell you. Your porcelain skin and your black hair . . . you look like Snow White. And your eyes are beautiful with the way you do your make-up. We just thought it was so pretty the way it all comes together." She fanned her fingers across her own face in a sort of circular motion.
I was floored. Flabbergasted. At a loss for words. "Oh, thank you so much," I finally replied. "That is so nice of you to say." I felt like I might start crying or something.
She smiled at me and walked back to her table. I took a sip of my drink and kept reading my trashy magazine, but I felt sort of distracted after that. For starters, I have a cold. I had blown my nose at least 700 times before lunch. (My friend Sara told me that if I took a zinc supplement, I would not get a cold. I have been taking zinc. You can kiss my ass, Sara!) Anyway, with my crimson nose I am pretty sure I am fully qualified to guide Santa's sleigh at this point. And of course there is my weight, which has really been getting me down lately. Most of the time, I am pretty much horrified by my own appearance. However, I try to be really careful what I say around my daughter because she is beautiful and I don't ever want her to have negative thoughts about herself. Of course, she generally thinks pretty highly of herself anyway. The other day I got home from the gym and was getting ready to take a shower. The laundry chute is right outside the bathroom door, so I stripped down in the hallway and shoved my sweaty clothes into the chute. Just then, my daughter walked by. I jokingly said, "Don't look at my butt!" She has the cutest butt in the free world and I often tell her that. I'd post a photo of it, but I'm pretty sure people get brought up on charges for that sort of thing.
She looked up at me, very solemnly and with no hint of a smile, and replied, "I did not look at your butt, Mom. Well, I did but . . . I did not laugh." She said it kind of like she had done me some great kindness, not laughing at my butt. I suppose she probably had.
So anyway, I'd like to thank the nice lady at Walmart for the compliment. She did indeed make my day. I'm still feeling a little verklempt . . .